


^ i i 1 j 

v^SS 

^Sff^ « *1 m 

1 z^yk\ 


L js\i ^ '. 





tCCONO COPY. 

i6«a. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap, Pz^ Copyright No. 

Shel f— rt p 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



( 


^ s 




i 

t 




♦ 





t ' 

r , 



i' 




4 « 




i 


f 


• t 


K 

I 'I ',1 • >, • • 
















» I 

I* -"■* V / 
■ c-v;,^ 


THE IVORY SERIES 


Each, 16mo, gilt top, 75 cents 


AMOS JUDD. By J. A. Mitchell, Editor of “Life” 
lA. A Love Story. By Q. [Arthur T. Quiller-Couch] 
THE SUICIDE CLUB. By Robert Louis Stevenson 
IRRALIE’S BUSHRANGER. By E. W. Hornung 
A MASTER SPIRIT. By Harriet Prescott Spofford 
MADAME DELPHINE. By George W. Cable 
ONE OF THE VISCONTI. By Eva Wilder Brodhead 
A BOOK OF MARTYRS. By Cornelia Atwood Pratt 
A BRIDE FROM THE BUSH. By E, W. Hornung 
THE MAN WHO WINS. By Robert Herrick 
AN INHERITANCE. By Harriet Prescott Spofford 

THE OLD GENTLEMAN OF THE BLACK STOCK. 
By Thomas Nelson Page 

LITERARY LOVE LETTERS AND OTHER STORIES. 
By Robert Herrick 

A ROMANCE IN TRANSIT. By Francis Lynde 
IN OLD NARRAGANSETT. By Alice Morse Earle 
SEVEN MONTHS A PRISONER. By J. V. Hadley 
“ IF I WERE A MAN.” By Harrison Robertson 
SWEETHEARTS AND WIVES. By Anna A. Rogers 
A CIVILIAN ATTACHE. By Helen Dawes Brown 


Other volumes to be announced 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


A STORY OF A FRONTIER 
ARMY POST 


BY 


HELEN DAWES BROWN 
'1 

AUTHOR OF “TWO COLLEGE GIRLS,” “THE PETRIE 
ESTATE,” AND “LITTLE MISS PHOEBE GAY ” 


CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 
NEW YORK 1899 


PZ3 

•8 2kQ 


311 ^^ ■ 

Copyright, 1899, by 
Charles Scribner's Sons 



TROW DIRECTORY 

PRINTING and bookbinding COMPANY 
NEW YORK 


S'"- < 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


I 

I FILL sarry for the leddies what I leaf 
dere/’ said the Pullman conductor in Scan- 
dinavian English. 

Adde waited inquiringly. What do 
they git to eat?” he continued, with feel- 
ing. You will find, oh, a fine air, ve*y 
fine air, but no \tg-t-tahles, no mit.” 

But, dear me ! there’s a railroad.” 

It is not the sem,” said the conductor, 
sadly ; I fill sarry for the leddies. It is 
lonely, too.” 

You’ll find what he says is true,” spoke 
a despondent voice from across the aisle. 


I 


2 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


sister’s husband is stationed there. I 
am at the Presidio. They live on canned 
things, so she writes.” 

< ‘ What a prospect ! ’ ’ 

Do you belong to the army ? ” 

Adele made haste to say no ; but why 
there was apology and regret in her tone, 
she could not have told. 

thought I had seen you at Fort 

Riley.” 

‘‘No,” Adele repeated. 

“Oh,” said her fellow-traveller, with- 
drawing and laying Adele quietly aside. 
“We army people all know each other. We 
are one great family.” The lady took up 
her novel. 

It was on the fourth day of her journey 
that Adde Kincaid sat gazing out upon the 
gray and the sage green of the New Mexican 
desert. Adele was favored among women, 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


3 


for she could emerge from a sleeping-car 
berth trim and fresh and animated. Her 
dark - blue tailor - made gown was firm 
and shapely, the pigeon-wings in her hat 
were erect and alert. Adele herself was 
all alight with the excitement of approach- 
ing her journey’s end. Her Baedeker lay 
open and unheeded in her lap. It was the 
familiar old Baedeker of her European 
travel : red covers ; types, big and little ; 
stars, single and double; and the same 
patient, laborious style, dealing gently with 
ignorance and stupidity. Yet it was Bae- 
deker with a difference. 

^^Of all things,” cried Adde, ^^the 
United States ! What can he find to say ? 
He has double -starred Niagara Falls. He’d 
better 1 And the Grand Canon. Well, if 
he hadn’t ! But what else is there? Castles, 
cathedrals, palaces, pictures — ^ a blank, my 


4 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


lord ’ ! Does anybody think that it pays to 
travel in America ? ’ * 

Yet Adele had written her name in her 
guide-book with a little flutter of pride that 
Baedeker thought America at last worth 
noticing, and with a quite new stir of affec- 
tion for the country which she had always 
left behind in summer travel. Her father 
said he observed some poor beginnings of 
patriotism, and hoped for much from a 
summer in the army. 

The invitation to visit an old friend now 
stationed at a frontier post had been re- 
ceived in the young lady’s family with 
varied emotions, frankly expressed. The 
friend, now Annie Seabury, had joined the 
army in direct consequence of injudicious 
visits to West Point, and her case was re- 
garded by Aunt Isabella as a salutary warn- 
ing. 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


5 


It was a mercy she had money. You 
see plainly the risk you run, Augusta. ^ * 
‘‘Annie and her husband are very 
happy,*’ replied Adde’s mother. 

“So much the worse,” said Aunt Isa- 
bella. “They are such match - makers, 
especially the happy ones.” 

“ But Adde is not young. She is twenty- 
five, and I call her an uncommonly sensible 
girl, if she is my daughter. * * 

Aunt Isabella controlled herself. 

Mrs. Kincaid was goaded into saying, 
“ Sometimes I think she carries common 
sense too far. I wish she were a little more 
romantic in the old-fashioned way.” 

“You don’t know your own daughter, 
that’s all I have to say ! ” 

“I have no doubt it is all for the best 
that girls in these days have so many in- 
terests and resources. It is all very well for 


6 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


the present, but for the sake of her future I 
wish ’ ^ 

‘^Oh, say it. You want her married, of 
course. So do I. I’m fond of her. But 
married into the army, never ! However, I 
don’t discuss it,” said Aunt Isabella, omi- 
nously. 

Oh, come, let her go if she wants to,” 
said Adele’s father. It will be an experi- 
ence, an adventure. She is a born traveller, 
our girl is.” 

‘ ^ ^ Over the hills and far away, ’ ’ ’ sang 
Adde in reply. 

Set aside by the lady from the Presidio, 
Adele had for the first time felt alone in the 
desert. The little dull ache of homesick- 
ness vanished by and by in a cry of joy. 

Annie Seabury ! ’ ’ 

There was a tumult of greetings — tears, 
laughter, explanations, introductions. 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


7 


And I haven’t seen you since that day y' 
said Annie. You were the loveliest brides- 
maid. You dear thing, to come this fearful 
distance. ’ ’ 

‘‘We’re awfully glad to see you,” said 
Ben Seabury. “ You are our latest civilian 
attache, Miss Kincaid.” 

“Here is the Colonel’s own ambulance 
and his pet mules. You’re to arrive in 
state.” 

“ If you are ever going to be homesick, 
Miss Adde, now’s your time,” said Ben 
Seabury. “ Look around.” 

Annie pressed Adde’s hand. The thread 
of railway appeared from the East as out of 
the boundless desert, and disappeared in the 
West in trackless sands. That it should 
reach civilization again on either side 
seemed beyond belief. Adele looked after 
her retreating palace-car, wending its way 


8 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


across the waste, in all its sumptuosity 
of plush and mirrors. Home, the East,^’ 
the green earth, disappeared with it, but the 
spirit of adventure was again uppermost in 
Adde. 

Homesick? never!*’ and she looked 
across a landscape of the color of dried mud. 
‘‘But have I dropped down on another 
planet ? Are you sure this isn’t Mars ? ” 

“ That’s a fact,” said Ben, “ all we need 
is irrigation. They say they’ve got it up 
there. Big canals, I hear. They ought to 
put ’em through this country.” 

Sand, dust, ashes, as far as Adde could 
see — she thought of the glory of the summer 
on the earth below, the grassy, woodsy 
America left behind. 

“ Burnt up, dead, eh ? ” said Ben. 

“It seems like the end of the world,” 
said Adele, gayly. 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


9 


‘‘Oh, it depresses me,’^ sighed Annie. 
“ It is morne, English doesn’t half express 
it. If it weren’t for Ben” — Annie shook 
her head. 

“It doesn’t depress me. It is only nat- 
ure in a different color. I can imagine 
one’s growing to like it.” 

“ That’s what the scientific fellows say. 
Once let ’em get a taste for the desert, you 
can’t get ’em away from it. Fact, I’ve seen 
it.” 

“ Ben will have you reading his scientific 
books. He’ll set you down to Smithsonian 
reports. Ben is frivolous at times, but he 
does love useful information. I don’t, my- 
self.” Annie’s vanity was entirely trans- 
ferred to her husband. “I am thankful 
my husband has tastes. Every army man 
ought to have a hobby. It isn’t safe 
not to.” 


lo A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 

Ad^le listened respectfully, for instruc- 
tion. 

The four mules trotted, brisk and bus- 
tling, over the long, level Government road 
that led across the plain to the post on the 
mountain-slope. With a fine display of 
speed, they dashed finally into the inclosure, 
past the stout guard-house and the pacing 
sentries, past the long, gray buildings of 
adobe, into the quadrangle of the parade and 
officers’ quarters. The sudden turn into the 
cool green and shade of the cotton-wood 
trees, the sound of softly murmuring water, 
the smell of the pinons from the mountain, 
started little cries of delight from the guest 
arriving. 

‘‘This is what irrigation will do,” said 
Ben. 

Within Annie’s house, the little cries of 
delight continued. “Is it the altitude that 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


II 


makes my head swim, or is it European pho- 
tographs and Oriental rugs, and a vine-cov- 
ered porch and beds of mignonette, on top 
of the Rocky Mountains ? ^ * 

Just seven thousand feet up," Benin- 
formed her. 

You will feel the altitude," said Annie. 

I shall make you rest." 

I don’t want to rest. I feel as if I 
could never be tired again." 

‘^Ah, that^s the altitude," said Annie, 
sagely. ^^The very reason you must rest. 
They will all be coming to-night to call — 
the whole garrison. That’s their fashion. 
And the band will serenade you. ’ ’ 

‘‘Annie ! ’’ 

A summer afternoon at Fort Halona was 
as dull as a summer evening was gay. 
Shutters closed, piazzas deserted, there was 
no sign of life on the Officers’ Row save a 


12 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


dog asleep in the shade, a runaway chicken, 
or a lazy bee among the vines. There was 
a heavy stillness in the air, for the Rocky 
Mountains have few summer sounds of birds 
and insects ; the silence, Ad^le was saying, 
fairly rang in her ears. The cool adobe 
houses, with walls thick as a castle’s, were 
one and all given over to the afternoon 
siesta. The most peaceful spot in America 
was this frontier fort. 

Toward six o’clock, shutters flew open, 
light dresses appeared among the piazza 
vines, gay parasols flitted back and forth, 
somebody called from one porch to another, 
and somebody laughed in return. The 
social part of the military day had begun. 

Ad^le and Annie were snugly established 
behind the hop-vines of their porch. Bright 
Navajo blankets covered floor and benches ; 
hammocks and willow chairs suggested and 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


13 


invited the little drama of the summer. In 
fact, the stage is set ; the scene is laid. 

“ Ben happens to be Officer of the Day. 
We must spare him till after retreat. I want 
you to see Ben, sword and all.’* 

Sunset gun and retreat came late on 
this long June day. In her reaction from 
homesickness, Adele had taken her first 
hours of army life as altogether diverting \ 
but her eyes lost their laughter as she watched 
the band of soldiers, with sober steps and 
sober faces, march across the parade-ground 
to the sound of the trumpet. Young Ben 
Seabury, Officer of the Day, stood hand on 
sword, facing the troops. For one moment, 
he appeared to Ad^le almost the hero that 
he did to his little wife. The orders of the 
Adjutant rang across the field. Presently, 
beyond, there was a flash of ugly light, then 
the roar of the sunset gun. As the echo 


14 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


travelled away in the distance, the band 
swung off into the bright, brave strains of 
the Star-Spangled Banner/^ The day was 
ended ; and slowly, in time with the music, 
the Stars and Stripes were lowered. Chatter 
ceased ; heads were uncovered, and reverent 
eyes followed the flag till it was furled. The 
act of homage lifted every heart ; it was the 
fitting daily devotion of these people dedi- 
cated to their country’s service. A great 
wave of emotion, new and wonderful as first 
love, swept over Ad^le Kincaid. In foreign 
countries she had saluted the American flag 
gayly, a little amused that she, too, was an 
American, as well as certain nasal fellow- 
travellers. Now, for the first time in her life, 
she had a passionate sense of a country to 
live and to die for. Never had the familiar 
music — the undying youth and courage, the 
brightness and ardor of the ‘^Star-Spangled 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


15 


Banner’' — touched and stirred the girl as 
it did this moment. It was a conversion 
to patriotism. Adele turned away; Annie 
should not see her tears. 

Emotions have never long duration upon 
an exposed veranda. First, it was an or- 
derly, who saluted and stood at attention 
before Mrs. Seabury. Fresh strawberries 
at the canteen, mum. Peas, potatoes, new 
lot of live chickens from Kansas,” recited 
the orderly. 

Mrs. Seabury gave her order, the soldier 
saluted, and passed on to the next house. 

Soon came another orderly, and handed 
the ladies programmes, which read, Con- 
cert in honor of Miss Adele Kincaid, by the 
Twelfth Cavalry Band.” 

The earliest callers were the Colonel and 
his wife. Then, for the first time, did Adde 
appreciate what rank in America might sig- 


1 6 A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 

nify. The little wife of the Second Lieuten- 
ant rose as she saw the approach of the com- 
manding officer, and whispered to Adele, 

This is the greatest honor they could have 
done you, to be the first to come.’* Annie’s 
humility as she greeted her superior officers 
was graceful and pretty as possible, thought 
her friend, but unlike anything else in Amer- 
ican society. She found herself sweeping a 
courtesy, as she had done before English 
royalty. Nor did she grudge her obeisance 
when she looked into the gentle and noble 
face of Mrs. Washburn. 

Colonel Washburn was a man offeree and 
dignity, a just ruler of his command. He 
was a modest man, who told excellent sto- 
ries of other men’s achievements. Such sto- 
ries were quietly related to the nearest man, 
but it delighted his wife to notice that every 
woman present leaned listening toward him. 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


17 


The visitors were many this evening: 
young lieutenants, with magnificent West 
Point bows ; captains and their wives, who 
could tell you tales of Indian warfare, when 
army life was not all a matter of evening calls 
and dress parade. The older officers were 
men who had had their share in the making 
of the country. They had brought safety 
into the wilderness, opened opportunity, and 
carried forward the spirit of America. The 
young men with only West Point experi- 
ence envied the captains their Indian fight- 
ing, while the captains envied the Colonel 
the Civil War. The wives, the least of 
them, had known hardship and danger; and 
few of them but had her own reeord of 
heroism. 

There’s your serenade. Miss Kincaid. 
You must show yourself on the piazza.” 

‘‘And then a speech. They expect you 


i8 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


to make a speech,” said Ben, gravely. It 
is the custom.” 

‘‘Ben, you are too bad,” whispered 
Annie. 

“A speech, a speech ! ” cried the young 
lieutenants. 

“I never heard of such a dreadful cus- 
tom,” protested Adde. “I never should 
have come ’ * 

“ Step right up to the piazza-rail,” said 
Ben. “ It will be over quick.” 

“Ben, I am ashamed of you!” said 
Annie to him. 

“Oh, wonH somebody do it for me?” 
implored Adde. But she was thinking: 
“Perhaps I seem ungrateful — and every- 
body has been so kind. Perhaps I am a 
coward. I cannot be a coward — not among 
these men and women.” 

She stepped forward and leaned a trem- 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


19 


bling hand on the balustrade. The music 
paused, and she said, in a clear, sweet voice: 

I thank you, gentlemen ; I am very grate- 
ful for your welcome. And I wish you 
would play the ^ Star-Spangled Banner * 
once more. 


II 


^^And are the women such gossips?’^ 
asked Adde. 

‘^The men are just as bad. We all gos- 
sip — I gossip, you will gossip, since you are a 
civilian attache. They call us that in official 
reports, you know. We women are ‘ non- 
combatants’ by courtesy — though we are 
such gossips. But how else should we 
amuse ourselves ? It is the human interest. 
Working out foolish little problems about 
our neighbors may be vulgar, but it isn’t 
very wicked. I suppose the whole post 
knows that Mrs. Ames is canning straw- 
berries to-day, and everybody knows that 
her husband is fond of preserves. Rather 


20 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


21 


tame, to be sure, but better than to 
say he is fond of drink.” Mrs. Seabury 
paused for breath. ‘‘Annie is a talker^'' 
Annie’s mother-in-law had said, in the 
family. 

“There are things more serious some- 
times,” said Mrs. Seabury, after a moment. 
“ There is one affair just at present. You 
will soon see for yourself. I wonder which 
way your sympathies will go.” Annie 
looked thoughtful. 

“ Adde, I wonder what the gossips will 
make of you. ’ ’ 

“Let us baffle them. Let us play them 
some trick. Let them think I am old — at 
least thirty — as quiet as the visitor next 
door, the lady who writes.” 

Adde had her fancies, and one was her 
liking to dress for certain parts. It had 
lately pleased her to be taken for her moth- 


22 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


er^s sister ; in her gracious and complete 
womanhood, she had begun to call herself 
^‘old.” She wore her hair in the revived 
style of fifty years ago, parted it, and rolled 
it back from her face without wave or curl. 
Grave colors and simple lines set off her fine 
figure and handsome face. 

The young men have deserted me,^^ 
laughed Adde. ‘‘lam always handed over 
to bald bachelors or elderly widowers.’^ 

Yet as she laughed, her eyes took the 
light like sapphires, and her red lips parted 
in lovely, childish curves. 

“ You girl I remarked Annie. 

“I see,’^ Adele continued, “that there 
are no end of young things at Fort Halona. 

I hear a twitter of young girls from every 
porch. 

“ There is a party of college girls at Mrs. 
Ames’s. They will be heroines when they 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


23 


get back to their classmates. And every 
house on the Row has a sister or a cousin or 
a niece in summer ribbons and muslins and 
laces. The hops will be brilliant.’’ 

Adde sighed. ‘^How shall you dis- 
pose of me ? ” 

‘‘I have been thinking what to do for 
you.” 

To provide me with a cavalier? Give 
me either the oldest or the youngest man 
here. ’ ’ 

‘‘ There is old Captain Payne. Be nice 
to him. Old captains are always a trifle 
pathetic. His wife is ill most of the time. 
His children are all gone East. Do you be 
good to him, Adde.” 

And who is the youngest man? ” 

Why, it’s that boy Hugh Gracie. He 
was here last night, though he barely spoke 
to you. Baby Gracie they call him.” 


24 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


That’s a shame.” 

you want to baffle the gossips, smile 
upon Hugh Gracie. They can make noth- 
ing of that.” 

Meanwhile, the Friday Morning Club 
had finished its scenes from Shakespeare, 
and had fallen back on dialogue of its 
own. 

'‘Have your samples come yet?” said 
one neighbor to another. 

" No, not yet. I have changed my mind 
about it since I saw hers last night.” 

" Mrs. Seabury’s friend’s? It was stylish 
— that bow in the back.” 

This conversation, as it proceeded, had 
scarcely the heroic ring, yet, in soldiers’ 
wives, it expressed pluck and energy hard- 
ly surpassed by their husbands’ courage. 
Though exiled from dressmakers and shop- 
windows, they bated not one jot of heart 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


25 


or hope. They are heroically stylish/’ 
said Annie, with their sewing-machines 
and their samples and their Bazar patterns.” 

She’s a handsome creature,” continued 
Mrs. Ames. 

‘‘ If you like that style,” said Mrs. Pet- 
tit. 

** Well, I don’t mind saying that another 
woman’s handsome. And I let my hus- 
band say it, too.” Mrs. Ames laughed 
comfortably. 

didn’t like her confidence,” said Mrs. 
Pettit. ‘‘ Men don’t like it in a girl. The 
idea of making that speech to the band ! 
No great speech, either, I didn’t think.” 

‘^My husband said he liked her pluck. 
He said he’d rather face a battery himself 
than make a speech before the whole gar- 
rison.” 

‘‘If I were Mrs. Seabury, I wouldn’t 


26 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


have my husband playing practical jokes 
like that/^ said another lady. 

I can’t imagine what she wants to come 
to such a place as this for,” sighed Mrs. 
Pettit. 

I heard that she said this was the most 
romantic thing in America.” 

‘^Romantic!” cried Mrs. Pettit. I 
have never had any illusions about the 
army. ’ ’ 

That is a pity,” said Mrs. Ames. It 
is a great pity not to let yourself go. Just 
enter right into the spirit of it, I say ! ” 

Mrs. Pettit was the homesick army wom- 
an, and always an obstructionist in con- 
versation. She did not answer Mrs. Ames, 
but looked wistfully across the plain to the 
little railway station. Thither she rode often 
to see the daily train come in, and see it 
disappear on the horizon. She loved every 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


27 


token of her distant ‘‘East”: the hum of 
the telegraph wires, the very letters “ Wells, 
Fargo & Co/s Express,” or a battered 
freight-car that had travelled from New 
York State. Mrs. Pettit was, in the world’s 
language, a wife beyond reproach ; yet, in 
all truth and sadness, she was an unfaithful 
wife, untrue to her husband’s career and 
disloyal to his hopes and ambitions. He, 
poor fellow, remembered now and then the 
old advice, “Marry an army girl, one 
born and bred to it.” He had taken a 
sweet-faced little wife from a New England 
home, having had no chance to discover 
whether selfishness or unselfishness were > at 
the base of her character. When he met 
her on the plains, he began his acquaintance 
with the permanent and inevitable Dora 
Pettit. 

Mrs. Ames continued: “Miss Kincaid 


28 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


has begun right. You have to take hold of 
this life first by the romantic side.’^ 

I wonder what will come of her visit/’ 
said Mrs. Pettit, drearily. ‘‘She can’t ex- 
pect much attention, with this crowd of 
girls here — all younger than she is. And 
there is really no one among these men.” 

“Captain McGuffin ? ” suggested Mrs. 
Ames, cheerfully. 

“Such a bore ! What my sister Mabel 
suffers ! He bears down on our veranda 
and settles himself there by the hour. He 
can’t seem to get himself up and out and 
off. And he’s that particular kind of bore 
that doesn’t talk about himself, but all 
about some third person that you never 
heard of.” 

The garrison ladies thought they had ob- 
served that sister Mabel bore her sufferings 
very patiently ; and hence they had not 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


29 


much by way of reply. None of them 
thought it necessary to dwell upon Captain 
McGuffin. 

wish/* said an emphatic lady, ^nhat 
Miss Kincaid could be used to call off Will 
Yorke — to get him away from Mrs. Blake. 
That would be a good deed.** The lady 
lowered her voice, and signified that she 
could, an if she would. 

^‘It is the same old story,** sighed an- 
other. Can*t it be brought about ? Make 
him over to Miss Kincaid, and never mind 
Mrs. Blake. I never waste sentimental 
pity.** 

'‘Poor thing! Everyone knows what a 
husband she has. ’ * 

“ But dear me! ** said the emphatic lady, 
"if you begin to say ‘Poor thing,* where 
are you going to stop? / haven *t set foot in 
her house for three months. * * 


30 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


‘‘We are to blame/’ said Mrs. Ames. 
“We do nothing to help the situation. 
Miss Kincaid to the rescue. I have a din- 
ner-party in my mind already. ’ ’ 

“But who else is there? She is not es- 
pecially young, and of what use are these 
young lieutenants ? Little Grade, for ex- 
ample.” 

‘ ‘ I wonder what that boy really has in 
him.” 

“ How is one ever to tell in this piping 
time of peace ? ” 

“ It would take war or love, one of the 
two, to bring him out. He’s not the son 
of General Grade for nothing,” said Mrs. 
Ames. 

“ Everybody likes him, down to the 
babies. When he meets a baby-carriage 
on the board-walk — why, Hugh Grade is 
simply charming.” 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


31 


There is no prospect of war — is there 
any of love ? ’ ^ 

^<What would you say to that pretty 
little pink-and-white niece of Mrs. Bel- 
lows’ 

Mrs. Ames shook her head. ‘‘It will be 
more romantic than that when Hugh Gracie 
falls in love — no bread-and-butter miss. 
He will fall in love heroically — perhaps 
tragically — if I know him.” 

“ It might be tragic indeed if little 
Gracie were to fall in love with Miss Kin- 
caid — tall as she is, and old as she is.” 

“ I fancy they are about of an age. But 
I will not see Hugh Gracie flirted with. I 
will not have his heart broken right under 
niy eyes. One broken-hearted man to a 
garrison is enough. There is always one, 
and he, somehow, never fails to let the 
world know. Imagine a woman ! ’ ’ 


32 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


Captain Vickroy, you mean. It does 
make him interesting, though.^* 

^‘So you see,^’ said Annie, as they sat 
after dinner upon the veranda, that in our 
time it is words, not deeds — a clash of 
tongues, that’s all. Absolutely nothing has 
happened to-day — your first day. It’s a 
mercy there’s a hop to-morrow.” 

This is happening enough, to sit here 
watching things I have never seen before — 
the air and the light and the cliffs and the 
plains.” 

Adele gazed at one distant object, then 
another, through the fine, bright, shimmer- 
ing air. Strangely near things looked, then 
retreated, and advanced again, quivering 
and throbbing in the thin atmosphere. It 
was hard to believe this landscape to be of 
solid earth and rocks, such a magic of un- 
reality lay upon it. The light of the high 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


33 


mountains at sunset is weird and theatrical ; 
at this moment it lit up the Officers* Row 
as with lime-light. Grass and trees turned 
the green of stage scenery ; figures of men 
and women stood out across the parade- 
ground as if a searchlight were turned upon 
them. The sharpness and nearness of every 
object gave Adele once more her sensation 
of another planet, with different laws of 
vision. The air to breathe and to smell 
was also new experience — the pure, unused 
air of the mountain solitudes, fragrant after 
rain, with the aroma of the pihons. 

** Sweet after showers, ambrosial airs.’* 

As the sun went down, the light turned 
soft and silvery. The last rays touched the 
tops of the red cliffs beyond the plain and 
flushed them with rose-color. The after- 
glow among the snow Alps is not more 


34 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


beautiful than the sunset illumination of 
the red cliffs of Arizona and New Mexico. 
As the last light faded in the short southern 
twilight, the great cliffs that faced Fort 
Halona stood grim and bare again. By a 
strange fitness, they rose in form of huge 
fortresses, with towers, battlements, and 
bastions: a colossal Ehrenbreitstein, built 
for wars of Titans. 

‘‘Not homesick, dear? YouTe so si- 
lent. 

“ No, not homesick.'^ 

The stars came out, just above their 
heads, as it appeared, so sharp and keen 
they shone out of the deep, rich blue of the 
night-time. The Milky Way, pale in other 
skies, was here a path of glory through the 
heavens; and it bent so near, so low, that 
it seemed a street of the Celestial City, in- 
viting the inhabitants of earth. 


A CIVILIAN attache" 


35 


‘‘You know,’’ said Ben Seabury, “that 
astronomers say there’s no such atmosphere 
for their work the world over.” 

“And what do the poets say?” Adde 
asked. 

“ Oh, the poets haven’t got here yet. 
Give ’em time. They’re coming.” 

Annie pressed her friend’s hand. “I 
knew you would feel that side of the life 
here. Many people don’t. It is all desert 
to them.” 

Ben Seabury and Adde were left by 
themselves in the starlight. 

“ Poetry, yes ! ” said Ben. “I’ve nev- 
er been so happy in my life as these six 
months. ’ ’ 

“ No wonder.” 

“Yes, of course, it’s Annie.” Adde 
had long liked Ben Seabury — never so well 
as at this moment. “ What difference does 


36 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


the place make ? — it’s Annie / That’s my 
idea of marriage.” 

Yes,” said Adde, softly. 

^‘You know all about Annie. I can 
talk to you. It’s the first chance I’ve 
had.” 


Yes,” said Adele, gratefully. 


Ill 

They stood upon the piazza, and waited 
for guard-mounting. 

You can see the air sparkle this morn- 
ing. It is intoxication ; it is too much 
happiness ! * * 

Ah, dear, if you feel like that, it^s time 
you took some bromide. Do you notice 
how your candle burns at this altitude — so 
much faster and brighter ? That is the way 
you burn, too. They say it is a climate for 
men and dogs, not for women and cats.’’ 

Adde laughed for joy. ‘‘ It is so easy to 
be happy in such air and sunlight, in such a 
morning. It is a perfect place to be happy 
in.” 


37 


38 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


Or to be unhappy in, with the hori- 
zon a hundred miles away. Supposing you 
didn^t love your husband, and had to look 
at those cliffs. You are well and happy, 
Adele, and you can take the train East any 
morning. Don’t you remember the horror 
these plains and cliffs were to poor Robert 
Louis Stevenson, on his emigrant train ? 
Your health is perfect and you came on the 
Limited. The truth is, I couldn’t sleep 
last night. Did you hear the coyotes howl 
and the owls hoot ? ’ ’ 

Poor dear ! ” 

Oh, I shall go to the hop. I wouldn’t 
have you miss that. There’s nothing to do 
here but to ride and to dance. If it 
weren’t for two mails a day, what would be- 
come of us ! — one from the East, one from 
the West, with letters, the daily paper three 
days old, magazines, serial stories, samples. 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


39 


packages, books. Indeed, I never knew 
what serial stories could be to one till I 
lived in this — vacuum.’* 

Do you say vacuum ? ” 

Not often. Everybody says it some 
time. But I always have Ben. I suppose 
I feel cross. I wish the band would begin 
to play. There they come. ’ ’ 

The guard for the day were met upon the 
field by the mounted band. The gay morn- 
ing light danced upon helmets and trum- 
pets, on gold tassels and cordons, and 
gleamed upon the shining coats of proud- 
stepping horses. The band-leader himself 
looked the greatest man in America. In 
his plumes and his gold, he was the near- 
est approach we are like to see to imperial 
grandeur. 

Annie Rooney’ does me good. I 
was on the brink of a headache. Guard- 


40 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


mounting puts me in tune for the day. To 
go back to the hop. Two or three men I 
want you to know.’* 

''Your young Lieutenant — what did you 
say his name was ? There’s nothing I like 
better than a nice boy. I’ve just got to the 
age. Then, I am determined to lead the 
gossips a dance. ’ ’ 

" I know a man I should really like to 
have get a little pleasure from your being 
here. It is Captain Vickroy. He lives 
very much to himself. There is one man 
who reads. He would like to talk with you 
about books.” 

"I am not book-learned. I wish I 
were.” 

" But you keep up. You live outside, in 
the world. That is what he needs — what 
we all need, alas ! ’ ’ 


" Dear, how does your head feel? ” 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


41 


Then, among the older men, there is 
Captain McGuffin. Ben likes him. I must 
say I think he’s a bore — and such a bore 
that he makes me a bore, too. He inspires 
me to say inane things, and that I’ll never 
forgive any man. Perhaps he won’t affect 
you in that way. He is good-looking 
enough. I tell Ben he tries to look like the 
Emperor William ; he rather overdoes the 
military part, fierceness, mustachios, and 
all.” 

‘‘I am dying to see him.” 

** I fancy he is already appropriated, my 
dear. The fair Mabel — well, I may be 
mistaken. One man I want you to do 
your best to captivate. You will do more 
good than harm. It is Will Yorke. I don’t 
tell you my reasons. I will let you see 
things for yourself.” 

Adele weighed these statements. 


42 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


In general, Adele, remember what I owe 
to your mother. There is one thing I am 
resolved not to have on my conscience. As 
for flirtation, you are a good girl. You are 
not a mischief-maker. ^ ^ 

Adde bridled a little. No girl likes 
to be told that she is not a mischief-mak- 
er. 

The post-hall was an accommodating edi- 
fice that adapted itself to a hop or a scien- 
tific lecture, to a court-martial or to amateur 
theatricals, and finally, on Sunday, took its 
turn as chapel. ^‘You’ll be saying your 
prayers here to-morrow, said Ben, in the 
full tide of the hop. Adde gave a little 
gasp, though dancing and praying were to 
her quite compatible. 

This is the first formal hop of the sum- 
mer,’^ said Annie, the visitors being now 
all arrived. The ^ formal hop ^ means ice- 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


43 


cream and your best gown ; ' informal/ ice- 
water and your second-best. ^ ' 

The two stood before the long dressing- 
room mirror, each looking at the other — 
final proof of their affection. 

‘^Everybody comes early,*’ Annie ex- 
plained. Ben, find Hugh Gracie. I shall 
dance with you.” 

Couples were strolling about to the tun- 
ing of instruments. Hugh Gracie and Adde 
Kincaid were presently one of these couples, 
and were watched with interest by the ladies 
who were seated around the room. 

She’s too tall,” said one. They might 
have found her a better partner. ” 

But Hugh Gracie is the best dancer at 
Fort Halona.” 

It somehow affected his stature that Hugh 
Gracie had blue eyes, a fair skin, and soft 
brown hair. There was the same little wave 


44 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


over the brow that had been there when he 
was a five-year-old, and his mother loved it 
now just as she did then. Few people in 
garrison society took Hugh Gracie seriously. 
When he rode past them with his troop, 
the ladies looked for him — interested, 
amused, much as they watched their own 
children playing soldier. At cavalry drill, 
at target-practice, at inspection. Troop L, 
however, took its Second Lieutenant as 
seriously as could be desired. Communica- 
tion was slow between privates and ladies on 
the verandas. These ladies had never learned 
that Gracie was a capital teacher ; for every 
army officer is a school-master. He taught 
his men tactics, but other things besides. 
He taught them how to take care of their 
health, how to make comfort out of hard- 
ship, how to amuse themselves; led them in 
athletic sports, organized holidays, set up 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


45 


prize contests of ingenious variety. And 
when the ladies heard that Hugh Gracie was 
superintending the Fourth of July games, 
‘‘You may depend upon it,*’ they said. 
“ Imagine dear little Gracie on the battle- 
field.” 

Adele complimented the banners and 
streamers that bedecked the hop-room with 
red, white, and blue. 

“ Do you like it ? ” said Gracie, eagerly. 

“I believe you did it,” Adde accused 
him. 

“ I had plenty of help from my men.” 

They turned soon to the irrepressible 
topic of army life. A visitor develops the 
self-consciousness of a peculiar people, as 
Annie had observed. “ We talk too much 
about ourselves ; we live too much in our- 
selves. There is something mediaeval, feu- 
dal, in the way we shut ourselves up in a 


46 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


class/’ Annie had been but six months in 
the army, and hence was full of lively gen- 
eralizations. 

‘^You are too late for any excitement, 
Miss Kincaid,” Hugh Gracie was saying. 

You ought to have got here ten years 
sooner. Now the Indians are as quiet as 
their sheep. They don’t scalp us any 
longer — they steal our chickens.” 

had my first encounter with an In- 
dian to-day,” said Adde, delightedly. I 
looked up to see what darkened the sitting- 
room window, and there stood a tall 
Indian, with gleaming black eyes and 
with a red fillet round his blue - black 
hair.” 

And a tomahawk?” 

And a watermelon.” 

What did he do ? ” 

Stood there, like a statue, perfectly 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


47 


grave, perfectly silent. He looked so pa- 
tient, so ancient. Such silence, such mys- 
tery, like this whole country.*^ 

What about the watermelon ? 

Don’t tell anybody. I bought it. Then 
I tried to conceal my deed. I gave it to 
the band-master’s children, who were chas- 
ing their goat past the house.” 

What did you and the Indian have to 
say to each other ? ’ ’ 

<^Not one word. He did not offer me 
his melon ; he was far too superior for that. 
He simply stood. I looked at the melon, 
then I looked at him, and I suppose I 
smiled. ’ ’ 

Oh, I know you did,” said Gracie. 

He held up two fingers, and I must 
have smiled again, for he handed me the 
melon through the window, and I took out 
my purse. ’ ’ 


48 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


^'And that is what frontier warfare has 
come to. The last time our troops were 
ordered out, we went to protect the Indians, 
up in the northern part of the territory, 
from the white settlers that were coming in 
upon them. My cousin's troop has been 
sent to guard forests in California. It wasn’t 
so always. Have you seen the old fort — the 
first Fort Halona — ^just below the canteen, 
where the blacksmith and the saddler and 
the shoemaker are now ? ’ ’ 

Did I see it this morning, the little 
square inclosure with the high adobe wall 
and the gate-way, and the little one-story, 
two-roomed houses under the wall ? ’ * 

^‘Officers’ quarters. That wall, you un- 
derstand, was to keep out the Indians.” 

^‘And the officers’ wives were there, 
in those houses?” Adeje drew in her 
breath. 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


49 


And Hugh Gracie suddenly got angry. 

They were selfish brutes to let ’em.** 

They wanted to come ; they would 
come, I know that.** 

^‘How do you know?** said Hugh, al- 
most roughly. 

Adele evaded an argument. ‘‘I have 
heard of army women,** she said. 

Ask the Colonel’s wife about those old 
times. She was at Fort Buford when the 
Sioux made their attack on it. The Ind- 
ians won’t make us much more trouble,** 
he continued, but the country has got 
enough on its hands. Have you seen 
the paper to-day? Have you seen the 
fuss Pullman is having with his people? 
It looks as if there might be a big rail- 
road strike. That*s the war-cloud in this 
country.** 

And so talking, they passed Annie, where 


50 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


she sat in amiable conversation with her 
most objectionable neighbor. 

After Adele and her companion, there 
passed another couple. 

^‘Well,’^ said Annie^s neighbor, ^Hhe 
matter-of-courseness with which those two 
go about is perfectly scandalous ! 

‘‘Or perfectly innocent,’' said Annie. 

“You are so charitable,” complained the 
other. 

“Who wouldn’t pity her, with a husband 
liable to be court-martialed any day? ” 

“ But you can’t shut your eyes,” argued 
the lady. 

“Oh, no,” sighed Annie. 

“Dear me! nobody supposes they will 
elope — not in America. Such things just 
smoulder for years together. I don’t see 
that anybody can help them except the 
Secretary of War. He can send Lieutenant 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


51 


Yorke to the New England coast. Mean- 
while, 1 let her severely alone. ^ * She fol- 
lowed them with her eyes, and wished greed- 
ily that she could hear what they were 
saying. 

I have been thinking,*’ said Mrs. Blake, 
to Will Yorke. ‘‘Yes, I advise you to 
apply for the change of post. No, I don’t 
care to dance. When we get back to Mrs. 
Seabury, I will sit awhile with her. Go, 
dance with the young-girl visitors. Make 
them have a good time — the young things ! ’ ’ 
Annie had not answered aloud her ob- 
jectionable neighbor’s last remark. She 
had only said to herself, 

* What’s done we partly may compute, 

But know not what’s resisted.’ ” 

The signal sounded for the first quadrille. 
Adde was happy. The music was far too 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


52 

loud for the room, said the judicious ; but 
the young people were swept away by its 
vigor and elan, Adele, in civilization, had 
had half a mind to give up dancing, it had 
become such a languid, dilly-dallying affair ; 
dancing on the frontier she discovered to be 
a new sensation. 

We do it well because it gets to be so 
ridiculously important,*^ her partner ex- 
plained, when she noticed the spirit, the 
accuracy, the rhythm, of the dance. The 
men moved with military precision and strict 
obedience to the music; grace and gayety 
added, the performance was charming. 

believe I never enjoy music so much 
as when I dance it,** said Adde. I feel 
as if I were one of the instruments in the 
orchestra. * * 

That*s it ! ** cried Hugh. You hard- 
ly know which is music, which is mo- 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


53 


tion/^ And they swung off to a new 
measure. 

And do you forget all about your part- 
ner ? I do, * ^ cried Adele. 

‘‘I like that! It's a fact, though; you 
do, if you care for dancing and music." 

‘‘Forget me now!" And away they 
went, the length of the room. 

“ And how do you like le petit Gracie ? " 
Annie by and by inquired. 

“He's the best playfellow I've found 
here." 

“ You must dress your hair low when you 
play with him, then, so as not to be taller 
than he is. I've heard he's engaged to a 
girl in the East, though it isn't generally 
known here. I'm always glad of that. It's 
safer for these youngsters." 

Addle made no answer, regarding a girl 
in the East as no affair of hers. Yet the last 


54 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


half hour seemed to have grown a little dull 
and pale. 

Here is Captain Vickroy/* said Annie. 
‘‘ He looks in at a hop, but he never dances. 
You have met Captain Vickroy, captain of 
Ben's troop? You know Miss Kincaid is 
spending the summer with me. ’ ' 

^‘Does she think it's worth while? " re- 
marked the Captain. 

Adde replied with such spirit that he 
looked at her instead of at his boots. 

‘‘This sort of thing the boys and girls 
like," began the Captain, and brought upon 
himself another rebuke. 

“The nice thing is that it isn't the 
boys and girls, as it is at home. The 
best dancer here is a matron with grown- 
up daughters — that beautiful Mrs. Seelye. 
And there isn't such a thing as a wall- 
flower." 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


55 


^ ^ Have you a free dance for me, Miss 
Kincaid?’’ asked the Captain, sadly. 

‘‘Take one of Ben’s,” said Annie. 
“But now you must stay here, for the 
Colonel is coming to talk to you. Send off 
Mr. Grade, or let him take me; you must 
talk this dance. Colonel Washburn is do- 
ing you a great honor. ’ ’ 

The Colonel was many years older and as 
many years wiser than Adele; when they 
discussed the future of the Indian, that 
warm-hearted young lady was no match for 
the cool-headed old soldier. “Oh, no, I 
don’t agree with you at all ! ” cried Adde. 

Annie heard with dismay. But the 
Colonel’s thoughts were of the simplest : 
this was a handsome, spirited creature who 
had found her way to Fort Halona ; very 
little he cared for her sweet unreasonable- 
ness on the Indian Question. 


56 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


When Hugh Gracie came back for an- 
other dance, it seemed to Adele the return 
of an old friend ; the first milestone was set 
in their acquaintance. If there was a girl 
in the East, so much the better, thought 
Adde; so much the less chance for ^‘non- 
sense ’ ’ — a comprehensive term of which she 
made great use. Adele could never have 
been convicted of coquetry in words, for 
matter-of-factness of speech was her pride. 
There was in her somewhat of the hardness 
of the American girl, whose supreme fear is 
lest she make herself ridiculous. Adele took 
care of her words, but nature had its way 
with her voice. 

“Oh, have you come?’* she said to 
Hugh Gracie, and the color and life in the 
words made Annie glad that she had men- 
tioned the young lady in the East. Gracie 
and Miss Kincaid were soon upon the 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE* 


57 


veranda, for dances were short and pauses 
long at seven thousand feet altitude. 

There's nothing to fight, you see, but 
the monotony." 

But you stand guard. You prevent 
fighting. You are the peacemakers. You 
carry peace before progress, before railroads 
and towns, and — happiness in general." 

‘‘ That was true once. Now we stand 
round and wait for the next thing." 

‘‘‘They also serve who only stand and 
wait.' " 

“ That may do if you are old and blind." 

Adele was glad of his reply, for there 
is nothing so priggish as a quotation that 
misses fire. 

“ This isn't what I went to West Point 
for," grumbled the young Lieutenant. 
“ There is more excitement there getting 


through exams." 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


S8 

Yet truly and solemnly you have given 
your life to your country. ’ ’ 

It’s good of you to say so.” 

Adde said next, in a plain, practical 
voice, ^‘My idea of a hop at a frontier 
post, to make it complete, has always had 
an attack by the Indians in the midst of 
it. Like the ball at Brussels : ‘ There was 
a sound of revelry by night,’ and then a 
war-whoop under the windows. That is 
the way in your military novels. Hark ! 
do I hear it ? ” 

Not a bit of it. We shall walk home 
in the moonlight. We shall hear the 
sentry : ‘ Twelve o’clock and all is well.’ 
There’s another waltz, will you come ? ” 


IV 

''But is he such a boy?^^ inquired 
Adde, in a spirit of investigation. "I 
think not/^ she said, slowly. " Sometimes 
I am actually afraid of him. His face is as 
stern as the young Napoleon’s was when 
he thought somebody was looking at 
him.” 

Hostium victor et sui,'' were words 
Hugh Gracie had once come across and 
taken possession of, till they took possession 
of him. His comrades knew that his lips 
closed firmly over his words — also that 
Hugh Gracie was many times conspicuous 
by his silence. 

"But Gracie has ideas — like celibacy in 
59 


/ 


6o 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


the army. Did y* ever hear the youngster 
talk about that ? ’ * 

Gracie had talked once, and had had long 
reason to regret it. He had come from read- 
ing a book written by an army woman, an 
account of hardships and dangers borne with 
infinite jest and with touching heroism. 
‘‘It’s too much to ask of a woman,” said 
Gracie. “Army men have no right to 
marry — officers no more than enlisted men.” 
A shout went up from the officers’ mess. 

“ Listen to our Youngest ! ” 

“ Not when he’s a young fellow, at any 
rate,” persisted Gracie amid the jibes. 
“ Not when he’s got to take the worst of 
the service.” 

“ She’ll be along pretty soon, Gracie. 
We’ll look for her this summer.” This 
feeble jest followed the young celibate as he 
made his escape. 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


6i 


For it may be said, by the way, that the 
rumor of a girl in the East was ill-founded ; 
it was Graders cousin in another regiment 
who was engaged to the pretty Boston girl. 

Hugh Grade, thus armor-clad in theories 
of celibacy, and Adde, reposing in his pre- 
occupation in the East, saw each other free- 
ly in the days that followed. They could 
hardly have avoided each other. Lieutenant 
Gracie, as usual, was Master of Revels. 
There was, for instance, that entertainment 
for the troopers, when Miss Kincaid read 
Kipling* s ballads, till the men stood up and 
cheered. Then came rainy days and open 
fires ; Annie sewed, and Adele read aloud, 
and Hugh Gracie had business with Ben that 
brought them both into the sitting-room. 
Adde read the Dolly Dialogues ’* entirely 
too well, said Annie; for Annie did not 
approve of Dolly. 


62 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


The men applauded. ‘‘ Give us Dolly 
again.** 

There were moonlight picnics, like the 
one at Watts Canon, deep in the cliffs be- 
yond the plain. It was believed that on the 
return ride Captain McGuffin proposed to 
Mabel Manice. Nor did Adele forget that 
ride home. 

There was the all-day picnic upon the 
mountain, when the four army mules trotted 
merrily off with a dancing buckboard fol- 
lowing behind them. 

Hold on for your life! ** cried Annie, as 
they bounced along. ‘‘ You never had better 
exercise.** The mules took small account 
of roads, but went cross-country, bumping 
over humps and hillocks, then up steep and 
twisting paths ; toed in around the curve of 
a precipice, or picked their way between 
rocks that grazed their ears. 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


63 


I admire and respect the army mule/^ 
said Adde. 

‘^Admire his driver, too,*’ said Annie. 
‘‘This fellow is doing finely, and expurgat- 
ing his profanity on our account till I 
wonder at him. They say mules only un- 
derstand words in D.” 

The mid-day luncheon under the great 
pines, and the siesta upon Indian blankets, 
the pursuit of wild flowers, and the descent of 
the mountain amid the flames of the setting 
sun — “ Can I ever forget it ? ” cried Adde. 

Adele was making friendships ; with the 
Surgeon and his wife, since that day Adele 
stepped on a cactus thorn, a no better thing 
than a number-eight needle ; with that 
bright and good woman, the Colonel’s wife, 
and with that sad, interesting, original little 
woman, Mrs. Blake. 

‘‘ It’s not philanthropy, I assure you. 


64 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


It’s quite on my own account. She’s far 
more interesting than your Lieutenant Yorke. 
I can see the whole garrison plotting to 
hand me over to him.” 

You are doing her good, any way. 
There’s nothing so good for a morbid affair 
as a new person. It gives her a chance to 
begin all over again. I believe, like my 
grandmother, in ^ simple remedies ’ — sepa- 
ration, new people.” 

She tells me nothing.” 

That’s just it. You don’t talk about 
such things. You are fresh air to Mrs. 
Blake and Will Yorke. When you get shut 
up with people here — it’s close, it’s stuffy — 
morbid, we call it. It’s my theory that 
those two people are trying to break away 
from each other. On Will Yorke’ s side it 
is only idleness and weakness, all mixed up 
with kindness. Can’t you give him some- 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


65 


thing to do, Adde? Let him fetch and 
carry for you. * * 

Annie’s attentions as hostess were about 
equally divided among a half- dozen young 
men. I prefer to have a number about,” 
said the judicious Annie. ‘‘ I want you to 
see several varieties. I want you to go 
home without an interest in any one indi- 
vidual, but with a good general knowledge 
of the army man.” 

^‘A good general knowledge,” laughed 
Adde. Annie, you are fun ! ” 

** I should hate to have* a young thing on 
my hands that couldn’t hear a bugle-call 
without emotion, or catch sight of yellow 
stripes and shoulder-straps without a flutter 
of the heart.” 

Adde bowed her contrite head, and 
tossed it again as she heard a trumpet in the 
distance. 


66 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


‘‘ To these young things, the glamour is 
simply awful. It’s dangerous.” 

Adele looked alarmed and elated. 
‘‘Therefore,” said Annie, “Hugh Grade 
rides with us to-day ; to-morrow Captain 
Vickroy ; the next day Will Yorke.” 

In Ben’s division of womankind into in- 
door girls and outdoor girls, Adele Kincaid 
was emphatically an outdoor girl. Her edu- 
cation had happened to fall in with the rise of 
athletics for women. Her parents sighed and 
smiled, and said that times had changed. 

“YetourAdde can never be called the 
new woman,” said her cautious mother. 

“Heaven forbid,” said her father. 
“ Adele will prove herself old-fashioned 
enough one of these days, let the right one 
appear. ’ ’ 

“Ah, the right one!” sighed the 


mother. 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


67 


Meanwhile, Adele was mounting her 
horse at far-away Halona. A flock of gar- 
rison children had apparently sprung out of 
the ground to wonder and point and admire. 

'‘Don’t those sun-bonnets,” said Ben, 
"wish they were beautiful ladies riding 
away and away with two brave knights ? ’ ’ 

Gracie set one sun-bonnet on his horse 
and asked her how she liked it. "It’s 
^^^^^-tiful, ” said the child, in a hoarse lit- 
tle whisper. 

The gay morning sunlight and the clean, 
clear air set the spirits of the party in a joy- 
ous key. Adele was a simple creature, after 
all, meditated the analytic Annie ; quick to 
seize every pleasure, quick to spy out de- 
lights ahead. 

"lam so ridiculously happy on horse- 
back,” said Adde. "Don’t think I’ve 
lost my wits if I smile and smile at you.” 


68 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


the climate,” said Ben. ‘‘This 
is the future great summer-resort of the 
country. * ’ 

It was Hugh Gracie himself who had 
selected Adde’s Indian pony from the herd 
of the Navajo scouts, and had given the 
pony’s nerves the preliminary training for 
the lady’s riding-skirt. With a soldier’s 
blanket draped about him so as to irritate 
the horse as much as possible, Gracie had 
pranced up and down the Row, to the high 
delight of the garrison children. The ladies 
on the verandas thought it another exhibi- 
tion of zeal where recreation was concerned. 
No one observed that the next hour was 
spent in superintending the stable duty of 
Troop L. 

“ I am getting so fond of Bess. Could I 
buy her of the Government and take her 
home with me? I should like a four-in- 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


69 


hand of mules, but I think my father might 
object, on Fifth Avenue/* 

Do take home the mules. But Bess 
would be no good in civilization. She be- 
longs on an Indian trail.*’ 

believe I do, too,** said Adde. 
‘‘Roads are tame things. Imagine riding 
in Central Park after this.” 

“ Central Park I ** sighed Hugh. It was 
the sigh for civilization that goes up, un- 
ceasing, from the frontier. 

“Ben wants us to see his ruined city,” 
cried Annie. “He has an ancient ruin 
ten miles from here.” 

Ben rode up, to impart information. 

“ Coronado and his Spaniards went 
through herein 1541, and mentions ruined 
and deserted cities. Why isn’t this one of 
them ? * * 

“ Can’t we take a cafion or two on the 


70 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


way?’^ said Annie. might have our 

luncheon at the head of the Green Canon.*’ 
Adele was impressed by this light talk of 
canons. ‘‘ The country is honey-combed 
with them, from here to the Grand Canon. 
You notice that when a person has once 
seen the Grand Canon, there’s nothing left 
on earth to astonish him with.” 

^*1 have never seen any at all,” said 
Adde, humbly. 

Have you ever been on Nassau Street, 
in New York? ” 

Once.” 

Those high buildings on both sides 
give you the idea,” said Gracie. 

Speaking of the East, have you seen 
the paper to-day ? ” said Ben. Three days 
old, to be sure, but it’s pretty lively read- 
ing. The strikers are on the war-path. It 
seems to be spreading westward.” 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


71 


‘‘How far away it all seems ! ** said 
Annie, contentedly. “ Army people are so 
remote from business troubles and political 
squabbles. I feel as if I were on a little 
island that floated about upon this huge 
continent. How could a strike, for in- 
stance, touch us ? ” 

Adde when in the world, was feeling, 
with her times, a strenuous interest in hu- 
man relations ; but here, in the wilderness, 
a curious sense of irresponsibility and help- 
less remoteness had come over her. She 
seemed to have stepped out of her familiar 
nineteenth century back to an earlier, sim- 
pler time, which lived to itself and did not 
go outside its own class, to take up the 
burden and the mystery of the great world 
beyond. The railroad strike which was 
advancing upon the country had no reality 
for her. The esprit de corps of the army 


72 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


had taken hold of Adde, and a certain self- 
ishness de corps as well. 

Our party took the road across the plain, 
dipping now and again into deep arroyos, 
miniature canons, torn through the clay by 
the mad mountain-streams of the rainy sea- 
son — now empty and peaceful, and waving 
with masses of dwarf sun-flowers. Down one 
steep side of the arroyo and up the other 
was a frolic for Adele’s Indian pony, which 
left her rider breathless. 

‘‘ Hold her in. It's a bad habit." 

‘‘I haven’t the heart to," answered 
Adde. ^^She thinks it’s such fun, and so 
dol! ’’ 

Far away westward stretched the plain. 
Cool, silvery sage-brush, dim green grease- 
wood, and tufts of tawny mallow, with bald 
spaces of sun-baked clay — such was the 
country for miles about. 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


73 


** How it grows upon you ! ’’ said Addle. 

I believe the desert is a cultivated taste. 
I see its beauty.^' 

I wouldn’t/^ said Hugh. don’t 

call it a healthy taste, a taste for what is 
ugly in nature. The magazines will call 
you a decadent. And you know that’s just 
what you aren’t, Miss Kincaid.” 

‘‘Read Pierre Loti,” Ben called back. 
“Read ^ Le Desert' There you’ve got 
it.” 

“ But the desert is so complete, it’s so 
harmonious. Every little animal to match ! 
Little pale-green lizards, comical little sand- 
colored prairie-dogs, and the little skurrying 
coyotes, like yellow mud. And when you 
get a dull-brown Indian with a red calico 
shirt, on a dull-brown pony with a red sad- 
dle blanket, he seems a part of the land- 
scape, too. And yet I used to have views 


74 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


on the Indian Question. I have to go home 
and think things over.^’ 

‘‘Oh, don’t.’^ 

“Pleasant, isn’t it? — just living along, 
with strikes and problems and questions all 
left back there,” and Adde looked over her 
shoulder eastward. 

They were making for an opening in the 
bluff that bounded the plain ; a narrow pass, 
between walls of slipping, sliding, black and 
gray ashes and coal-siftings, so it looked ; 
a place burnt, dead, abandoned by nature. 
Not a living thing was seen. No spire of 
grass sprang from the white alkaline earth ; 
there was no sound of bird or insect in the 
ghastly vacancy. One rider through this 
pass thought of Milton and Dante ; another 
called it plain hell. 

As the horses’ hoofs crunched the dry, 
hollow lumps of slag, Adele shuddered. 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


75 


‘‘Will the end of the world be like 
this?” 

It was a relief to find themselves in an- 
other open plain, with a tiny stream and 
struggling grass. At the head of the stream 
they came upon that familiar American ruin, 
a deserted ranch ; some poor foundations of 
a little house, the remnant of a fire-place, 
some battered tins and broken glass. ‘ ‘ The 
only human thing we’ve come upon,” said 
Annie, and thought of the shabby little his- 
tory of hope and disappointment. 

“They had to give it up,” said Ben, 
cheerfully. “ We’ll push on, and I’ll show 
you a better ruin.” 

But first they turned aside to lunch in 
the beautiful Green Canon. Its prehistoric 
waters had dwindled to a tiny stream that 
still kept flowers growing by its banks. 

Adele Kincaid, from the Atlantic sea- 


76 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


board, had indeed much to think of, so 
much that she talked little. When peo- 
ple are reasoning to themselves, they can 
speak out ; but the imagination works in 
silence. 

While Ben explained that Erosion had 
written its own history all over this Western 
country, Adele looked up to the walls of the 
canon, so sculptured, so architectural, and 
she felt the sublimity of Water and Time, 
working together. 

Great, isn't it?" said Hugh Gracie, 
solemnly. 

This is your native American sculpt- 
ure," Ben was saying, as he pointed to 
a fantastic rock, shaped by the whirl of an- 
cient waters. 

Was this the real America, Adde was 
thinking, this wild, wonderful, original, 
sensational country ? The green pastures 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


77 


and still waters of New England seemed to 
belong to another life. 

Spiritual things were happening fast to 
Adele as she sat quiet, looking up to the 
grand rock wall. The boundaries of her 
country, of nature, even of life and happi- 
ness seemed widening all around her ; and 
yet within the new spaces, but two figures 
seemed present, herself and another. 

They lunched and rode on. Another 
plain and another they passed, lying at the 
base of the long-ridged, pine-clad mountain. 
At one point the mountain sent out a spur 
into the plains, steep on all sides, one of 
nature’s own citadels. • On the other side 
of the world a castle would have crowned 
such a height, and here, too, the natural 
fortress had been made an Indian strong- 
hold. A level waste of crumbled stone was 
all that was left of the walled pueblo. Be- 


78 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


low, across the plain, ran an ugly, jagged 
arroyo, deep and wide, the bed of a stream 
long since departed. 

*‘That was the water of this village,*’ 
said Ben. ^^When that went, the people 
went, too. That’s the history of this coun- 
try — a water history. We’d better look for 
some bits of pottery.” 

To the back of the village site lay the 
long mountain, its rich red rocks and ever- 
green trees deepened in color in the after- 
noon sunlight. The loneliness and loveli- 
ness of the spot, the stillness that would 
never give up its secret, wrought upon 
Adele. She wandered away to the end of 
the village and looked across the empty 
plains to the cliffs, which, in the afternoon 
light, showed all the pinks and purples and 
violets in nature. And so, thought Adde, 
the five o’clock light fell on those cliffs in 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


. 79 

the reign of Elizabeth and in the days of 
Julius Caesar. And so the afternoon light 
will fall five hundred years from to-day. 
Adele felt lost in the ages. She turned, 
grateful and relieved, to a voice behind 
her. 

Hugh Gracie held out a poor bit of dirty 
white clay, with two black lines across it. 

That is all there is left,” he said. 

‘'Poor things!” was all that came of 
Adde’s eloquent emotions. 

" I know it ! ” said Hugh, feelingly. 

"I think of the poor women that lived 
here,” said Adde. 

"The poor men, too,” pleaded Hugh. 

"Were they so different from us? I 
canT make them out at all. What is there 
behind that inscrutable Indian face — is there 
everything or nothing ? Could one ever 
get at an Indian woman’s heart ? ” 


8o 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


It’s probably less complicated than 
yours. ’ ’ 

Adele shook her head and laughed. She 
knew that her heart was of the simplest con- 
struction, though at eighteen she had sup- 
posed it to be complex. 

They must have had something of the 
same life that women in the army have. 
Their husband’s business was fighting, and 
the women waited at home. Ah, that wait- 
ing — how do they bear it ? ” 

‘‘It’s all wrong, mixing women up in it 
at all.” Hugh Grade’s face was stern. 
“If a man sees his duty this way, he 
ought to be man enough to live it out 
alone.” 

“But the girl in the East,” thought 
Adde, in astonishment. 

A declaration of celibacy, in any circum- 
stances, is a little difficult for a woman to 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


8i 


reply to. All things considered, Adde had 
really nothing to say. 

‘‘There are the others/^ they both ob- 
served presently. 

“We have had a lovely day,’^ said 
Annie, throwing herself on a lounge when 
they reached home. “But one thing, 
Adde. Hugh Gracie will not be invited 
here for at least a week. When I think of 
your mother and your Aunt Isabella — You 
were wonderfully contented without Ben 
and me — you two.” 

Annie had considerable wisdom for her 
years, but she failed to weigh the words 
“ you two.” 

Adele drove her hat-pin into a variety of 
objects near her. “Have you any specific 
charges?” she said, without looking at 
Annie. 

‘ ‘ It was worse than that. It was not 


82 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


specific. It was a general satisfaction in 
each other’s society — such as Ben and I feel, 
of course. I suppose it’s a new style of flir- 
tation — ^just being quiet and comfortable to- 
gether. ’ ’ 

Adele went up-stairs, quiet and dreamy. 

That Hugh Gracie spent that moonlight 
evening on Annie’s veranda was entirely the 
fault of Ben, who hailed him in passing. 
Annie retaliated by inviting over the young 
ladies from across the way, and instituting 
an evening of banjo -playing and college 
songs, calculated to reduce sentiment. But 
Ben stupidly introduced war-songs, ^^of all 
things the very worst,” said Annie, ‘^es- 
pecially combined with moonlight.” Ben 
had persisted in Hugh’s singing “Tenting 
on the Old Camp-ground,” which Hugh 
did, to the admiration of the college girls. 

“ Oh, Mr. Gracie ! ” 


A CIVILIAN attache" 


83 


Mr. Grade, do sing it again.’* 

Adele sat back among the vines. 

Ben passed round a magazine, to convince 
the company that they could read it by the 
moon ; while Annie went into the house to 
look up some sherbet. 

As Ben took up the tray of glasses in the 
hall, he whispered to Annie, 

“ * With souls released from earthly tether, 

We gazed upon the moon together.’ ” 

But they’ve both of them got an earthly 
tether, and it behooves them to remember it. 
It’s your fault — getting him here again to- 
night. Do be careful, Ben, how you go 
through the screen-door with those glasses.” 


V 

Yes, go,*’ said Annie. It is a pity for 
you to lose your last ride. You can keep 
the rest in sight. My head aches so I don’t 
know what I’m saying. I wish it weren’t 
Hugh Gracie, but it can’t make much differ- 
ence, you are going home so soon. Oh, go, 
go, and shut every door, ’ ’ 

‘‘My last ride,” said Adele, as she 
lighted in her saddle, and looked down at 
Hugh. 

“ My last ride,” she repeated, as he said 
nothing. “ I am doing last things contin- 
ually now,” said Adde, very distinctly and 
cheerfully. “ I am harrowing my feelings 
with them.” 


84 


A CIVILIAN attache" 


^5 


'‘You don’t have to go home,” said 
Hugh, like a discontented school-boy. 

" My cousin’s wedding next week — that 
settles it.” 

" You have to go through Chicago. You 
know what they are up to there — the 
strikers.” 

" Oh, I sha’n’t mind the strikes. I shall 
go. Why, I must. I’m to be bridesmaid 
— I’ve told you all about it. Besides, I 
can’t stay here forever ! ” 

" Why not? ’ ’ said the discontented young 
man. 

"Let's take the mountain to-day,” re- 
plied Adele, briskly. "It is a good scramble 
up, but the plateau, with the grass and the 
flowers, is what I want to remember longest 
of all this country.” 

The Indian ponies bent to their work, 
picked their way patiently and discreetly 


86 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


among stones and stumps and tufts of cac- 
tus, crept along the edges of chasms, and 
felt their way over the rattling stones of the 
rain-washed track. 

‘‘Horse sense; I know now what it 
means, ’ ’ said Adde. 

“ Horse sense is very limited. These po- 
nies have none whatever when it comes to 
civilized objects — an open umbrella, or an 
ash-can.” 

They were passing a huge gash in the 
mountain-side, the earth and rock of an 
angry red, an evil and desolate place. 

Soon, on the other side, they skirted a 
lovely ravine, of gray old rock — familiar, 
habitable stone, clothed in friendly green ; 
such are the contradictions of nature in this 
strange land. The desert left a thousand 
feet below, the four riders had reached the 
brow of the plateau, which lay for many 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


87 


miles between two desert plains. They fol- 
lowed the path of the wood-cutters, which 
wound among pines and junipers, planted in 
parklike vistas of nature’s daintiest land- 
scape gardening. 

This is the strangest surprise of all,” 
said Adde. ‘Tt is all so quiet and human 
that it looks like ^ grounds.’ ” 

That’s a fact, it does.” 

How I shall remember this when I am 
old ! ’ ’ said Adde, gayly. 

hope so,” answered Hugh, gloomily, 
and let the subject drop. 

‘‘This is the last time I shall see these 
pines — ^just as much the last time as if I were 
going to die.” 

“Oh, don’t! ” 

“ I want to hear the great pines once 
more. Can’t we ride up among them ? We 
can overtake the others. ’ ’ 


88 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


The tiny pinons of the lower slopes had 
given place to the noble pines of the timber 
belt, standing in groves at the head of the 
grassy, flowery glades of the beautiful pla- 
teau. The trail led across a field of yellow 
arnica, then up a gentle slope into the heart 
of the pine woods. 

Listen ! ” said Adde, softly. Through 
the tree-tops there ran the sighing, the mur- 
muring, the searching, the yearning, the 
consoling, the pleading, the confiding, the 
lofty whispering of eternal secrets. It is a 
tale never told, like the sound of the sea, 
like the murmur of the shell. 

Adele had left her horse, and, lean- 
ing against a great tree, had closed her 
eyes. 

<< This is what I want to remember. 

<< This is what I want to remember,** 
thought Hugh Gracie, too, as he looked at 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


89 


her. The lithe, graceful creature, as she 
laid her cheek against the tree, might have 
been an oread of the Rocky Mountains. He 
should come here again, without her — Hugh 
had the vision of it. 

** Such peace ! murmured Adde. 

‘‘No, I think it’s quite the other way,” 
and Gracie began to tighten the saddle 
girths diligently. These sighing, sentimental 
pine-trees irritated him. 

‘ ‘ Are you ready to go on ? ” he said, in a 
tone that made Adde come quickly. 

“ I am keeping you. But you can come 
again, and I can’t.” 

He looked away from her. His face did 
harden like the young Napoleon’s, thought 
Adde. 

“ There’s a shorter way to go back,” he 
said, “if you don’t mind a steep bit. I 
ought to get home by five.” He called to 


90 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


the riders ahead. They did not agree with 
him. 

‘‘By all means, take the short way,^^ 
urged Adde. 

The abrupt descent of the mountain gave 
no time either for pique or for dreaming. 
Hugh had reason on his side when he 
chose the most difficult way to the plain be- 
low. 

“ Do you think you can do it if I lead 
the horses ? ” he said, as they looked down 
the steep, rocky trail. 

“I donT mind myself. I mind my new 
riding-habit.’^ Sentiment was successfully 
routed. 

“ Tuck it up, and step right in my tracks. 
Look out for cactus-thorns and rolling 
stones. Ready? Come on.” 

“ Whatever I do,” thought Adde, “I’ll 
have no sprained-ankle episode — not when a 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


91 


young man is in this frame of mind/’ and 
in ten minutes she was safe at the foot of the 
mountain. 

Good ! ” said her companion. Now 
for home ! I am watching that cloud. It’s 
swinging round our way ; it’s one of those 
ugly black patches. We shall get there ahead 
of it. Now ! ” 

Adele made haste, silent and obedient. 

We’ll strike across the plain, till we hit 
the road.” 

‘ ‘ Do you ever lose your way ? ’ ’ 

No. See, we ride by our shadows. 
People are lost, though. One of our men 
was out twelve days before they found him, 
half-dead. He could just stand up, and 
salute, and report — ‘ Sir, I’m lost.’ Then 
he fainted away. Oh, no, he didn’t die.” 

Hugh kept an eye on the cloud, which 
hung low behind them — a small, compact. 


92 


A CIVILIAN attache" 


black mass. Over their heads and on either 
hand were feathery clouds and blue sky. 

They came to the very arroyo that they 
had crossed at another point on their way to 
the ruined village. 

‘ ‘ The stream that ran dry so long ago ! ’ * 
‘‘It fills at times now, in the summer 
rains, said Hugh, “ but the water runs off 
in half an hour.’* 

“ It has such a hard, level bed — why 
don’t we ride along it a piece ? It would be 
such fun, between these steep banks. Oh, 
do ! It takes us straight toward home. I 
can see Fort Halona. How near it is ! ” 

“ A good four miles. This atmosphere 
brings it near as a field-glass would.’* 

Adele was ignorant of the country, and 
her companion was not ; but there was that 
at work which made Adele’ s ignorance pre- 
vail. They trotted along the arroyo ; and 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


93 


this arroyo, as it happened, was the outlet 
from the Green Canon in which, a fortnight 
before, their little party had lunched. 

Once within the walls of the arroyo, they 
talked more freely and gayly than at any 
time before that day. 

I think the pine-trees set me right,” 
said Adde. These rides are wonderful 
for variety. So many experiences they give 
you in one day ! * ’ 

noticed that,” said Gracie. 

There was the day of the old Indian 
fortune-teller. And you wouldn’t have your 
fortune told. Why not ? ’ ’ 

Mine has been told.” Adde supposed 
that she understood, and therefore asked 
next, What was the old creature’s name? 
Who would imagine that that hideous old 
crone had ever been the beautiful Indian 
maiden that warned Fort Halona her tribe 


94 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


were coming — and really saved it, didn’t 
she?” 

^^And has lived on it ever since — on its 
back kitchens. But I suppose that’s fair 
enough.” 

She looks a hundred.” 

She can’t be more than fifty.” 

And there was the day of the cactus- 
thorn — ah, how it hurt ! There was the 
day of the rattle-snake — and Ben killed it. 
There’s an adventure every time. But to- 
day the peaceful pine-woods.” 

‘‘We aren’t home yet.” Hugh turned 
involuntarily to look at that evil cloud. 

“ You think it may rain? ” said Adde. 

“It may. We’ll hurry our horses a 
little.” 

Ahead, Hugh watched for a break in 
the banks by which they could leave the 
arroyo ; looking back, he followed the 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


95 


movement of the heavily weighted cloud 
that labored slowly after them. 

‘‘If it should drop on our heads, we 
would get a good ducking. Look, it has 
begun to rain there, off toward the canon. 
It looks like a black wall across the sky. 
It’s a regular cloud-burst.” 

The cloud had, indeed, stopped and 
stood still over the gullied sands at the head 
of the caflon. There, like an inverted bucket 
of water, it poured its contents out of the 
sky. It was not what we call rain ; it came 
down in columns and masses of water. In 
past centuries, streams had gathered at the 
canon, to pour over the steep wall in a cat- 
aract, and to race down the gorge and the 
arroyo, till they exhausted their force in the 
parched soil of the plain. In recent times 
only a phenomenal rainfall, at a certain 
point, could repeat the ancient story. 


96 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


As surely as water runs down hill, this 
was what happened now. The converging 
water, leaping two hundred feet, tore down 
the ravine, ripped the cracking bushes from 
the banks, flung high on one side the broken 
fragments of a poor camp, whirled along 
the reeds and flowers ; and, spitefully wreak- 
ing itself on everything weak by the way, 
reached the arroyo, and rushed onward like 
an angry living creature. 

Hugh Gracie turned to listen, and his face 
fell into hard lines, as he summoned cour- 
age — courage for two. 

may as well say it. The water’s be- 
hind us. Do exactly what I tell you. I’ll 
do the best I can.” 

Ad^le had loved a tale of adventure as 
well as her brothers had done ; but never 
once had she herself been in peril of her 
life. Now there was a flash of recognition. 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


97 


‘‘ This is it — the thing I have read about. 
It is here — ^ the bright face of danger.’ ” 

She spoke, in instant reply to Hugh. 

What you tell me,” she answered, and 
he never forgot her voice. 

We must get out of this,” he said. 

The first break in the bank, no matter 
how steep. Ride fast ! When I say ^Now/ 
obey me.” 

^^Yes,” she whispered. She looked 
straight ahead, between the perpendicular 
walls of clay. She saw the little sunflowers 
under the bank, and pitied their last gayety. 
She noticed how Gracie sat his horse, and 
took comfort in it. That roar of water — 
should she hear it the rest of her life, or 
forever, if she died hearing it? Adde 
shuddered, sick with fear. She tried to 
hear something else — listened for the 
breathing of her horse and the thud of its 


98 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


hoofs. To shut out the roar, she spoke 
to Bess, but her own dried, stiffened voice 
was a new horror to her. With her utmost 
will - power she controlled her voice and 
spoke naturally to Hugh. 

‘‘ We’re getting on ! ” she cried, cheerily. 

Oh, yes, a trail crosses here soon, I 
think.” 

He turned an instant to look at her, and 
they both smiled. 

‘‘We shall soon be home,” he said. 

“We shall soon be home,” she repeated. 
Was it hours — that ride? No, it lasted two 
minutes and a half. 

“I think it’s near, the water,” said 
Adele, so quietly that something within 
her appeared to snap suddenly. After that, 
she did not seem to care, and heard 
Hugh’s voice from ahead as if she were in 
a dream. 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


99 


Ride faster ! ” he shouted. 

Faster,” her lips repeated stiffly. 

‘‘That’s right, faster ! ” 

He turned back again and smiled. She 
looked into his eyes gravely, penitently, 
pleading for forgiveness. “ It was I who 
did it,” she seemed to be saying to her- 
self in another world. “ I threw away his 
life.” 

Hugh fell back, to keep close at her 
side. 

“Go on, go on,” she cried. “I en- 
treat you, I pray you, don’t stay for me. 
Hear it ! ” 

The water was upon them, there was no 
doubt of that. 

“Ride, ride! Come up, Bess, Bess, 
good Bess. ’ ’ 

“ Hear it ! ” whispered Adde. 

“ See, ahead ! ” shouted Gracie. “Now, 


lOO 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE* 


A dele / Give her her head. Lash her ! 
Hang on to her mane ! ’ * 

They stood at the top of the bank as the 
boiling mud whirled by. 

It will soon be gone — in half an hour, 
probably. That was a good scramble. It 
takes an Indian pony for that sort of thing. 
It^s lucky yours has always thought a steep 
place a frolic. DidnT that last plunge she 
gave to the top unsettle you? YouM 
better dismount and rest.’’ 

^ ‘ Yes, ” said Adde, faintly. She dropped 
limp from her saddle, and stood with hand 
still resting on Hugh’s shoulder. 

‘^Do you feel faint?” he said, hoping 
she did. 

^^No.” 

She transferred her hand to the pommel 
of her saddle and leaned heavily against her 
horse. Her arm went round its neck. She 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


lol 


petted and praised and caressed the good 
Bess, and then she put her head down on 
the saddle and trembled violently. 

When she raised her face, Hugh still 
stood looking at her. 

You have always respected me till 
now,” she said. ‘^You thought I was 
brave. ’ ’ 

‘^You behaved splendidly. Not one of 
my men would have done the thing bet- 
ter.” 

I never was so frightened in my life. 
I tried military obedience, that was all.” 
Adde smiled. 

The vexed word obey had its solution 
in the look that passed between these two. 
But the eyes of both grew troubled again. 

‘‘We ought to be so happy that we are 
here alive,” said Adele, “ but somehow 


102 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


takes something more than to be 
alive/ ^ said Hugh, and both meditated. 

‘‘It seems ungrateful not to go home 
happy,’’ was Adde’s rash speech, which 
nearly precipitated a rash reply. 

“ I suppose it’s the tension — it’s nerves,” 
said Adele, quickly, by way of correcting 
herself. 

“ Happiness isn’t the only thing,” said 
Hugh Gracie, rather disagreeably. 

‘ ‘ And you said you had to be home by 
five o’clock.” 

“We shall make it. We shall be ahead 
of time, in fact. This has been quick work 
— this ride down the arroyo.” 

“ It was my fault,” said Adde. 

“ Just as much mine. In fact, it was 
nobody’s. Such a thing might not happen 
once in a hundred years.” 

“ I must attract such things. I wonder 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


103 


what will happen to me on my way home. 
You won’t be there, you see. It was a 
burning bridge on the way out, and eight 
hours to wait.” 

Thus conversation was conducted off into 
safe channels. 


VI 


I SHALL end with a dinner; then I 
shall invite them all in for the evening/’ 
said Annie. ‘‘That is the simplest way 
to do up farewells. Have a lot of people 
about. You don’t run the risk of senti- 
ment. I shall have the Colonel and his 
wife, to give state to my dinner ; the Sur- 
geon and his wife, because you are such 
friends ; and one more, to balance you. 
You shall choose.” 

“ Say Captain McGuffin.” 

“ Spare me. Did you know, by the way, 
that he and the fair Mabel are firmly and 
finally engaged ? You are one girl who 

goes home free as she came, I am thankful 
104 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


loS 

to say. I shall put you on the train with 
a good conscience. No, we can’t have 
Mabel’s heavy dragoon.” 

Captain Vickroy, then. I like him. 
He is to come to see me at home. We 
haven’t finished our talk.” 

Annie looked very acute, and more than 
ever thoughtful. 

‘‘I am glad you don’t say Mr. Grade. 
I think we have had quite enough of le petit 
Gracie.” 

Captain Vickroy is delightful when you 
come to know him. Or you might ask Mr. 
Yorke; you have worked so hard at his case 
this summer, Annie dear. You have really 
accomplished something, too.” 

That affair did not go very deep on his 
side,” said Annie. The pity of it was that 
she was a serious person. But did you know 
that you are to have company East? Mrs. 


lo6 A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 

Blake is going to spend some time with her 
mother.” 

‘^She and I planned it.” 

What all that means I ” sighed Annie. 
^^Very well, let us invite Mr. Yorke. 
You shall have the Colonel on one side. 
He made the prettiest speech about you, 
dear — thanked me on behalf of the garri- 
son, and so on. Another pretty speech was 
from Miss Lynch, the lady who writes. I 
believe she will put you into a story. I 
suspect her of studying us all. ’ ^ 

The reverse side of this conversation 
might have been heard a few houses beyond 
on the Row. 

Miss Kincaid is going on Thursday. I 
know, because Mr. Seabury has just been to 
my husband’s office to see about transporta- 
tion.” It was the wife of the Quartermaster 
who spoke, the Quartermaster being the 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


107 

^‘Universal Provider’^ of an army post, 
dispenser of ambulances, kitchen ranges, 
fences, hooks and hinges, paint and paper. 

She has trunks and boxes, I don’t know 
how many. She’s carrying home so many 
Indian things. She’s going to have an Ind- 
ian room at home, I hear. I met her at 
the post-trader’s this morning buying an- 
other blanket, and afterward at the canteen, 
buying one last basket, she said. The 
Apaches have just sent in some beauties.” 

‘‘They’re the only decent things in the 
country,” said Mrs. Pettit. 

“ Mrs. Seabury is to have a dinner the 
night before she goes. Colonel and Mrs. 
Washburn are invited. Well, I don’t know 
that I’ve any objection to that. I tell Mrs. 
Washburn she ought to be in the White 
House. That’s what it is to have influ- 
ence — that woman. She gives a tone to 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


lo8 

things here. Why, I’ve been at one post 
where half the people didn’t speak to the 
other half.” 

I hear the Surgeon and his wife are in- 
vited. Miss Kincaid has been getting so in- 
timate with them ! If I see her white par- 
asol coming this way, I always know where 
it’s going to stop. How do you like her, 
anyway? Well, so I say.” 

‘‘ She has quite spurred me up,” said an- 
other lady, seeing her enjoy army life. I 
told my husband I’d ride again with him 
if he’d get me a pony. My husband loves 
this out-door life, but he does hate to go off 
alone, so he sits and smokes.” 

‘‘You see,” said Mrs. Pettit, “these 
young-lady visitors stay just long enough. 
Another month of army life, and she would 
be glad to go, unless — but you can see that 
nothing of that sort has happened. Mrs. 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


109 


Seabiiry deserves some credit for her good 
management. I can see their piazza per- 
fectly from my up-stairs hall-window. She 
has had first one and then another — per- 
haps that nice boy, Hugh Gracie, as 
much as any. That was rather bright 
of Mrs. Seabury, so that nobody could 
gossip. Nobody has. Who is the fifth 
guest at the dinner — the man ? Tell me, 
if you hear. That may mean something, 
at last.’^ 

And did you know that Mrs. Blake is 
going East on the same train, on a long 
visit to her mother ? My theory is that no 
sooner did Will Yorke see a new face than 
he was tired of the whole thing. That’s 
about my opinion of men, I’m sorry to say, 
my husband excepted. Well, whatever I 
may think, I’m not one to talk.” 

We are at such close quarters with peo- 


no 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


pie in the army, that’s the only difference,” 
said the next lady. ‘‘Army people are just 
like any other people, only they are so near, 
it’s like seeing them with a magnifying glass. 
I trust I am charitable.” 

A dinner-party at an army-post takes 
strategic genius. The plan of campaign is 
laid long in advance. The lady in command 
studies to serve a fish course in midsummer 
with the fish-market a thousand miles away ; 
to order meat from the nearest large city, 
and a basket of fruit from a town in the 
next Territory. A letter goes East to a sis- 
ter, who mails bon-bons and favors; and 
West to a California cousin, who sends a 
box of carnations. In the dead of night, 
the hostess has her inspirations : a new dis' 
guise for canned salmon ; some fresh apoth' 
eosis of hash, in form of a dainty entree; or 
some original garnish that is proof of the 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


III 


creative instinct of woman. The result is 
a series of plats coquets that Paris might 
respect. 

Her wedding gifts are the army hostess’ 
point of support at a frontier dinner. Her 
silver and her table-linen give her serenity 
of soul. 

Adde had never dined at Fort Halona 
without feeling the queer shock of one 
civilization clashing with another. From a 
parlor hung and laid with Navajo blankets 
and decorated with Apache baskets and 
Sioux war-bonnets, through a hall adorned 
with trophies of the chase, she would pass 
into another room, where a dinner-table 
stood before her, rosy with soft shaded can- 
dles, smiling with silver, and fragrant with 
flowers. 

One of Adele’s hostesses had written a 
^‘Frontier Cook-book,” with a special 


II2 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


chapter on high-altitude cooking. Adde 
carried home an autograph copy as one of 
the best trophies of her summer. 

Do you think it's a waste of time, 
Adde, all this trouble over a dinner ? In the 
first place, dear, it is never a waste of time 
to please Ben. You'll feel so some day. 
Then we have so few ways of amusing each 
other ! It is more time and thought than 
money, spite of the fact that our tables are 
pretty. It isn't the fashion here, either, 
to pretend not to notice. We make a 
nice, cordial fuss over each other's dinner- 
tables, we women, while the men look 
blank and smiling. They flatter us by 
eating. ' ' 

Adele’s departure was the pivot of the 
dinner-talk on Wednesday night. Her visit 
was summed up in its different aspects. 

You have npw some idea of the army, 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


I13 

Miss Kincaid,” began the Colonel. ‘‘You 
will help us to a better understanding be- 
tween civilian and soldier.” 

“You have a good notion of the face of 
the country, Miss Kincaid,” said the Sur- 
geon. “You’ve explored it pretty thor- 
oughly. You will find it hard to forget 
this part of America, I think. It impresses 
itself. Most Americans know about as 
much of it as they know of the interior of 
Africa. But the magazines are getting hold 
of it; they haven’t heard the last of us.” 

“You were kind to travel so far,” said 
the man on her left. “You took a lot of 
trouble. I wonder when you come to look 
it over, if you’ll think it paid. ” 

Adele tried to convince him. 

“You would never think it worth your 
while to come again,” said her companion. 

“Besides, we shall all be gone,” said 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


114 

Annie, cheerfully. ^^We army people can- 
not flinch at farewells. It’s the principal 
way we have to use our courage. Ah, sup- 
pose they were going away to war ! Those 
would be farewells ! Talk about something 
else, quick ! ’ ’ 

‘^There’s no fear of that — no hope of 
that,” said the young Lieutenant. ‘^It’s 
dead calm.” 

^‘You took some trouble to come, Adde,” 
said Ben, obediently changing the subject, 
^^but I am afraid you will find it more 
trouble to get home. If I had my way, 
you wouldn’t try to go through Chicago till 
these strikes are over. The thing is spread- 
ing, too.” 

The men fell to talking of the strikes, of 
Debs, of Pullman, of the troops already or- 
dered to Chicago. 

The ladies by and by withdrew to the 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


115 


parlor, and Annie gave a last touch to lamps 
and flowers. She established a detachment 
of the band in a green nook under the stair- 
way, gave a look at herself and at Adele, 
and announced all in readiness for her 
guests. For they come promptly, and it 
is nice of them, as if they really wanted to 
come. Adele, you are beautiful in that white 
gown. Never mind if it does make you 
vain. Don' t be so sweet and subdued. It 
isn’t your style. You are sorry to leave 
us, dear, aren’t you? Here they begin to 
come.” 

So it is all over,” said Hugh, who was 
the last to arrive. 

No,” protested Adde, ^^this summer 
is going to last me forever. Every day and 
every hour is sharp and distinct.” 

‘‘Oh, that’s the altitude again.” They 
both laughed at the nonsense. 


ii6 A CIVILIAN attache' 

Which day is the sharpest, looks near- 
est, in this atmosphere? Hugh asked. 

That day — you know the day — oh, I 
never can forget the sound of that water. 
Nor, if more of the truth were told, could 
she forget the sound of AdUe From 
that time Hugh had been shy of her name in 
any form, and had addressed her as you,^’ 
in boyish fashion. In fact, he had had very 
little talk with her since their ride down the 
arroyo. There was but one thing that he 
cared to say ; polite conversation with Adde 
had become a mockery. Nothing they said 
would ring true until the truth could be 
spoken. If Hugh Grade’s young face was 
stern, and his words few, it was because he 
was thinking, There’s not much fight in 
me, if I can’t fight this out with myself. I 
can’t marry her, and I won’t be pitied by 
her. The love I’d give her is worth some- 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


I17 

thing — but it isnH worth enough to a girl 
like that. She could make any sacrifice — 
she could love a fellow enough for it — 
she’s that kind of woman — you can see 
it. But she likes me — that’s all. She’s 
frank and free and sweet, but she’s never 
been a shade beyond a certain point. 
Most girls give a signal to advance or 
retreat. She doesn’t care enough to give 
either.” 

Adde, on her side, was saying to herselfi 
‘^Oh, I am perfectly frank about it. I 
must go home and get over it. Summers / 
You either make yourself or somebody else 
unhappy — regularly. When he is married 
to that girl in the East, I shall soon get 
used to the idea — when it is once over.” 

So two people may soliloquize, looking 
into each other’s eyes, and saying : 

‘‘ You go on the eight-thirty? ” 


Ii8 A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 

Yes, I go on the early train/ ^ Adde 
was obliged to turn to other guests. 

After an hour or two, the company 
melted away as quickly as it had appeared. 
Hugh must say good-by in order not to be 
the last. 

If you are ever on leave in the East, I 
hope I may see you, Mr. Gracie.^^ 

Then I am afraid it will be a long time 
before we meet again.’’ Adde, for the 
fiftieth time, was puzzled. ^‘The cavalry, 
you know, belong on the frontier.” 

Then this is good-by for — how long, I 
wonder ? ’ ’ She looked at him, smiling. 

Years, will it be ? ” 

‘^And so much will have happened, 
Captain Grade. It goes very well. ’ ’ She 
nodded gayly. 

Her cheerful tone was a little over- 
done, but Hugh did not perceive that. It 


A CIVILIAN attache" 


119 

confirmed him in his theories and resolu- 
tions. 

Then, at the last, something took hold of 
Adde, as it often did — the warm impulse to 
speak from her heart. For, occasionally, the 
truth does get spoken by people in evening 
dress. She said, with all her earnestness 
and sweetness, **You have made my sum- 
mer — happy — yes, that was the truthful 
word. shall never forget it — your part 
of it. And I hope you will remember, 
too.” Hugh looked at her, then looked 
away. 

^‘Good-by,” he said, holding out his 
hand. 

The last guest departed, Annie and her 
friend stood together on the veranda. 

‘<Is it possible you are really sorry to say 
good - by to these people, after so short a 
time?” 


120 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


For Adders eyes were filled with tears. 

Which one are you most sorry to leave, 
after me, of course ? Come, tell me. The 
ColoneFs wife, I should say. No ? * * 

On the whole, I am most sorry to leave 
Hugh Grade. That’s what I am crying 
about,” and she laughed. 

‘‘Adde, I am relieved,” said Annie. 
‘‘ There was a time when I had to warn 
you. I am glad it has ended so well.” 

Adele gave a queer little sob, and said 
she was tired. 

You may never see him again. That is 
the strange thing about this life. People are 
so much to you for awhile, and then — 
nothing. ’ ’ 

I shall want to know what becomes of 
every one,” said Adde, earnestly. 

T/ie Army and Navy Journal ; that’s 
all you need for that. You can always fob 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


I2I 


low your friend Grade with the Army and 
Navy JournalN 

‘‘Yes,” said Adde, submissively. 

“So you have ridden and danced, and 
dined and tea-ed, and been to parades, and 
watched target-practice and sham battles, 
and you are a bit disappointed that that is 
all there is of it. It is tame when you come 
to sum it up. You will have to depend on 
Captain King’s novels. This is what they 
call ‘ slight, ’ when they talk about stories. ’ ’ 

“ ‘Slight ! ’” repeated Adele, with some- 
thing between a laugh and a cry — “ Oh, I 
hope so.” 

Annie was really too tired to ask her 
what she meant. 

The friends were silent for several mo- 
ments. 

“How still the night is ! ” murmured 
Annie. 


122 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


As she spoke, there came from across the 
parade the slow, solemn music of taps/’ 
It sounds the end of the soldier’s day ; and 
over his grave, it sounds the end of the 
soldier’s life. As the sweet, sad, thrilling 
notes died away into stillness, Adde whis- 
pered, ‘‘ That is the end. Come in ! ” 


VII 


Annie Seabury stood at her gate. The 
large leaves of the cotton -wood over her 
head flicked and flapped one another in the 
breeze, and threw their restless shadows 
across her golden hair and summer gown. 
The afternoon sunlight was brilliant upon 
the scarlet geraniums that bordered the gray 
adobe of the veranda-wall. 

Will Yorke passed by ; and Will Yorke 
had been wont to linger at garden gates. 

Hugh Gracie walked past, with a brief 
bow ; he gave not so much as a glance at the 
Pelgrams’ baby-carriage, which stopped the 
way. Hugh’s face had grown older in two 
days. 


123 


124 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


Still Annie paced the board-walk, from 
door to gate, from gate to door. The 
Colonel’s wife came down the Row. 

I won’t ask you, Mrs. Washburn, what 
it is at Head-quarters. But not the Indians, 
not the Indians, dear Mrs. Washburn ? No ? 
Oh, how thankful — An orderly hurried Ben 
away to Head-quarters. They are all going 
to Head-quarters.” 

We shall know soon. Do you remem- 
ber when Miss Kincaid’s train was due at 
Chicago ? ’ ’ 

Then I know! ” cried Annie. The 
railroad strike and Adde on her way, and 
our troops going. The officers are all com- 
ing out of Head-quarters ; they are stand- 
ing there talking. How can they ? Why 
doesn’t Ben come home ? ” 

‘‘Sit down, and I’ll tell you,” said Ben, 
entering the house. “ The Santa Fe road 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


125 


is in the hands of the strikers. No trains 
are allowed to move east of Las Palmas. 
There are a dozen of them held there al- 
ready. Two troops are ordered to Las 
Palmas to guard the road, and send on the 
trains. ’ ' 

And you to be killed by strikers and 
anarchists — Ben ! ’ ’ 

Nonsense ! ” said Ben, grave and hila- 
rious by turns at prospect of action. 

There may not be a shot fired — probably 
wonT be. We’ve got to let them see us, 
that’s all. Let those fellows have a look at 
the United States Government. We are 
only going to prevent war, and it’s high 
time. This country’s in a pretty state. ” 
‘‘Ben, Adele must be on one of those 
trains. You are going to rescue her. 
That helps me to bear it.”' 

“ Upon my word, she is. That’s a fact. 


126 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


she’s having a jolly time of it about now. 
She’s got pluck, though. Annie, there are 
just four hours to get ready in.” 

Hugh Gracie had remained behind at 
Head-quarters. 

‘‘ My troop doesn’t go, sir?” 

No,” said the Colonel. ‘^Are you 
sorry to lose the fun ? ’ ’ 

Could you let me go ? ” 

If you can manage an exchange.” 
couldn’t ask it of a fellow. Colonel. 
They are all hot to go. ’ ’ 

It may be nothing more than to show 
ourselves for twenty-four hours. Then, 
again — we don’t know what may happen. 
It’s a new species of war — the worst kind, 
from its uncertainty.” 

The Colonel put his hand on the young 
man’s shoulder. 


Better staj^ here, my boy.” 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


127 


Hugh Gracie had borne this all his life. 
The look in his face caught the sympathy 
of the Colonel. He recognized a fellow- 
soldier. 

Get ready, then. We’ve no time to 
lose. Those people laid up at Las Palmas 
are badly off. They are pretty near starva- 
tion. The strike-leaders have cut off sup- 
plies — won’t allow the railway eating-houses 
to move any provisions. It occurs to me, 
our ladies who have just left here — well, the 
plot is thickening, Gracie.” 

Just before midnight. Troop A marched 
out of the barracks, then Troop B. The 
black mass of men moved across the parade- 
ground, past the officers’ quarters, past the 
barracks, past the guard-house, and down 
into the plain. At the last officer’s house 
the dark veranda was crowded with silent 
women. There was neither moon nor 


128 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


stars ; brightly lighted windows threw out 
gleams that deepened the shadows. The 
troops passed the house with no sound but 
the regular thud, thud of footsteps; while 
women looked each for her own, with the 
love and yearning of farewell in every face. 
The hilarity of action had died away; the 
gravity of their errand had settled upon the 
faces of men and officers. 

In the common danger to their beloved, 
the women felt for one another tenderness 
and friendship without alloy. Mrs. Wash- 
burn held Annie’s hand in hers. have 
seen so many of these departures. I was a 
bride in the Civil War.” 

How could you live? How could you 
eat and sleep ? How can we ? ” 

The country is in danger,” was Mrs. 
Washburn’s answer. They say it has not 
been in such danger since i86i.” 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


129 


‘'And we must be glad to send them? 
We must put patriotism higher than love? ** 
“If we marry into the army/* 

“ There is my husband ! ** 

Ben saluted gayly, and Annie smiled 
gayly in reply. 

“ Mrs. Washburn, he is gone ! ’* 

A moment later, Hugh Grade rode by. 
“But his troop was not going,’* said 
Annie, in the midst of tears; “Ben said 
so.” She fell to thinking, and it did her 
good. She even laughed. 

“Because I have been so stupid about 
something,” she apologized to Mrs. Wash- 
burn. “Yes, indeed, I am glad that they 
are going to Adde, going to the rescue of a 
distressed heroine — fancy ! ” 

And Annie Seabury, after all the protests 
and warnings of the summer, went home 
that night rejoicing in a love-story. Her 


130 


A CIVILIAN attache" 


imagination revelled in this romantic meet- 
ing of the lovers. Ad^le should some day 
be compelled to confide to her friend the full 
particulars. Had she told Ad^le that it 
was a mistake about the girl in the East ? 
Why, she must have, long ago. 

Meanwhile, the long train went on its way 
across the plains — hours upon hours of dead 
level. 

It comes as near being nowhere as any- 
thing on earth can,^* yawned Ben Seabury. 

What do you see out there on the horizon, 
Gracie? Heigh-ho — Vm waiting for some- 
thing to happen,** and Ben yawned again. 

Within an hour, Ben*s wish was fully 
gratified. The train stopped short. At the 
last station, the force-pump of the engine 
had been soaped, and, the water in the boiler 
being exhausted, the train was at a standstill, 
with Las Palmas a hundred miles away. 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


131 

The comments upon the situation shall be 
omitted ; they would not make a profitable 
page of our history. Men and officers stood 
off and took an observation of their train 
standing at high noon stock still in the 
desert; for there is nothing to equal the 
silence and inertness of a railroad train that 
has come to a stand on the plains. 

Colonel Washburn summoned his officers 
for a council of war. The thing to be done 
was deliberated. To march forward one hun- 
dred miles was out of the question. Haste 
was necessary, for the beleaguered travel- 
lers were every day in greater distress. The 
nearest station was that just left behind, 
where the train had stopped for water, and 
where the town was filled with the strikers 
who had played the train this evil trick. 

We cannot ask lelp from them,*’ said 
the Colonel; ^^we must force help from 


132 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


them/’ He paused for a moment. There 
was no lack of courage among the men 
before him, but some were slower of 
thought and slower of speech than others. 
It was young Gracie who stepped out of the 
group. 

‘^Give me ten men, sir, and I’ll go back 
and capture an engine.” 

‘‘Better take more than ten. There are 
over a hundred strikers there. ’ ’ 

“We must have an engine, quick. Not 
more than ten men can hang on an engine.” 

“ It’s a risk, Gracie. I shall call for 
volunteers. You’ve got an ugly job.” 

Ten times the number begged to go, and 
in half an hour Hugh and his men marched 
down the track, watched by their comrades 
till they were motes on the horizon. 

There was heat and there was thirst, and 
there was a sand-wind in their eyes, but 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


133 


Hugh Grade’s fine young face was il- 
lumined with long desire fulfilled. To do 
deeds was man’s life; why else should he 
cumber the earth ? And to do deeds for 
love and for country, that was man’s lot 
made perfect. The radiance of love and 
youth and patriotism played about him till 
even his rough comrades saw they knew 
not what. ’Taint a pretty thing to do, 
but he looks ekle to it,” they said to one 
another. 

Do this next mile on the double-quick. 
Try it, men.” 

As Gracie and his men were nearing the 
end of their march, there were still assem- 
bled at the railway station thirty or more 
strikers, who continued to chuckle over the 
neat trick they had played Uncle Sam. 

They won’t get to Las Palmas not this 
night, you bet,” was the gist of their re- 


134 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


marks. Not with no played-out pumps, 
I tell yer.^’ 

There was an air of relaxation and self- 
satisfied achievement about the spitting, 
swearing little crowd. 

‘‘No, sir, they ain’t goin’ to git there, 
nor they ain’t goin’ to meddle with our 
orders. We don’t ’low no trains to move, 
not for no colonel, and not for no gineral ! 
This is our business, and ’taint nobody 
else’s.” 

“ Sendin’ a lot o’ loafers to set us to 
work. Workingmen we are. They’ve got 
a soft job, those reg’lars. I’d like to see 
one on ’em that ever done a good day’s 
work. ’ ’ 

“If they foot it to Las Palmas, they’ll 
be doin’ one good day’s work.” 

“ That’ll take the starch out o’ some o’ 
them young officers. They think too much 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


135 


o’ themselves. It tickles me to see a little 
chap struttin’ round I could pick up by the 
scruff o’ the neck.” 

That’s the last train you’ll see go out 
o’ this place. This ’ere freight-train thet’s 
just come in — well, thet Californy fruit can 
rot for all me.” 

‘^It’s worse than thet at Las Palmas. 
It’s folks.” 

‘‘Well, Pullman’s to blame. I ain’t.” 

“ Who’s that cornin’ — off there — down 
the track ? ’ ’ 

“ Men — and muskets. I see the sun on 
’em.” 

‘ ‘ What are they up to ? Are they goin’ 
to shoot us for soapin’ their pump ? ” 

The men felt for their fire-arms. 

“ See the little feller at the front. He 
don’t look much to be afraid of. See 
their legs go — so clickity-click. They’re 


136 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


cornin' straight on. See him turn round 
and face 'em and give 'em orders — to shoot 
us, I wonder ? They say they shoot pretty 
straight, the reg’Iars." 

You see that engine," Hugh was saying 
to his men. That looks like a train that's 
just come in. That engine's what we're 
after. You are to surround it. MacKee, 
you know the business. Uncouple the 
tender from the train. The steam's on yet. 
I’ll order the engineer out of the cab. 
He'll get out. You go on, MacKee. The 
rest of us will hang on somewhere, when I 
give the word. Never mind the men round 
the station. They may fire at us, but 
they'll be fools if they do. Keep order — 
that’s the best way to settle 'em." 

The men obeyed. The engineer crept 
down from his cab, and Gracie's men 
formed around the engine. There was a 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


137 


moment of uncertainty. The strikers closed 
in about the soldiers, three men to one. 

Here, young man,^^ said the leader, 
‘^we see what you’re up to. Now, we 
don’t want to have trouble ; you know you 
can’t take that engine j that engine belongs 
to the Santa Fe road.” 

Grade looked him in the face. The wills 
of the two men wrestled with each other. 
Both stood motionless and in silence while 
the tussle lasted. Among the strikers 
Gracie saw hands feel for weapons, and 
faces grow ugly. His own men looked on 
in awful earnest with rifles ready,” await- 
ing the next order. There was a bloodless 
battle of a few seconds. 

Gracie turned on his heel, and gave an 
order to his men. They sprang to their 
places on the engine : three men sat upon 
the cow-catcher ; two manned the boiler ; 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


138 

two the tender, while Gracie himself mount- 
ed last to the cab beside the engineer. The 
bell rang, the whistle sounded, the engine 
moved away, and left the strikers to sulk 
and swear. Only one spoke reason. 

Yer see, it was old Uncle Sam against 
Mr. Eugene Debbs.^* 

The quest of a locomotive has not hither- 
to figured in the romances ; yet no knight 
of Arthur’s Table thrilled to his task with 
higher heart than that of the young cavalry 
officer of 1894. 

The young soldier, in field uniform, with 
campaign hat jammed down upon his eyes, 
braced himself in the cab of the plunging 
locomotive, and at the same time braced his 
mind to think. In the course of that ten- 
mile drive with his captive engine, Hugh 
Gracie gave up finally a cherished theory, 
and arrived at a decision upon a great sub- 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


139 


ject. Such is the power of ‘‘action” to 
develop new convictions. 

When, in half an hour, he and his men 
drew up at the rear of the helpless train, 
they were met with shout and song. ‘ ‘ See 
the conquering hero comes ! * ^ 

Gracie jumped down and tried to get to 
cover. 

“ Not a scratch. No glory about it. Any 
of you would have done the same thing,” 
he answered them. “Don’t lose time hur- 
rahing.” 

Nor did they. In five minutes from 
Hugh’s arrival, the engine was pushing the 
long train before it, with much heaving 
and panting. By and by, they were able 
to side-track the disabled locomotive, and 
shift the one they had captured to the head 
of the train. And so on to Las Palmas, 
without more ado. 


VIII 


The two ladies from Fort Halona occu- 
pied adjoining sections in the Pullman car. 
Each, with housewifely instinct, set out her 
belongings in comfortable order, preparatory 
to forty-eight hours of railway life. Then 
each sank back against her pillows and gave 
herself up to the occupation of her thoughts. 
Adele gazed and gazed upon the fortress 
cliffs, at whose feet the train was winding. 
She remembered her first sight of them. 
They had been to her then mere sensations 
of travel ; now they were the background of 
two months* life. She brooded over the 
mystery of the change, and luxuriated in its 

sweetness and its sadness. Since she was now 
140 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE’ 


141 

securely checked and ticketed for home, 
and all sentimental dangers were receding at 
a high rate of speed behind her, Adele said 
to herself that at last her thoughts were her 
own, and if she chose to shut her eyes and 
think of — any one she pleased — no harm 
could possibly come of it. As soon as she 
reached home, and returned to her old life, 
she should take herself seriously in hand. 
But here on the plains, while the cliffs and 
the sage-brush lasted — Adele sighed. She 
was glad now that she had kept the sprig of 
sage-brush he had given her that day ” ; 
though she had meant to burn it, for self- 
discipline. 

Smell the sage any time,” he had said, 
and it will carry you here. Try it, prom- 
ise me, on Madison Avenue. ’ ’ 

Adele took up a novel, and read a page 
twice, and three times, before she grasped its 


142 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


very obvious meaning. She turned the leaf, 
and again she gazed upon the cliffs. 

Mrs. Blake had her own thoughts, and the 
friends talked little. 

There^s another wedding besides your 
cousin’s that I am interested in,” said 
Mrs. Blake, toward nightfall. wonder 
what I’d better give them. My friend, 
Maud Amory of Boston, and Captain 
Gracie.” 

‘‘ Captain Gracie ! ” 

Yes, cousin of our Gracie. He is at 
Fort Apache. I don’t want to give her com- 
monplace table-silver. What do you ad- 
vise? ” 

Adele appeared to have no ideas whatever 
on the subject. She adjusted her pillows for 
meditation. Twilight at sea or twilight on 
the plains lends itself to dreaming. 

I wonder how the Chicago strikes are 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


143 


getting on/^ Mrs. Blake said, sleepily, as the 
porter made up her berth. 

Early next morning they learned that the 
strikes were ‘^getting on’^ famously; that 
Chicago was very nearly the seat of civil 
war; that no trains were moving between 
that city and Las Palmas ; and that their 
own train was liable to be stopped at any 
point. The women travellers were pale with 
fear; the men were red with wrath. 

The train sped on with smooth, lulling mo- 
tion over the even road-bed of the prairies. 
But there was no further napping among the 
passengers. 

The miners up in the mountains are on 
a sympathetic strike, and theyTe sending 
their coal-cars down the mountain-side — 
thundering down, to smash anything on our 
road that they can run into,^’ said a gentle- 
man from Buffalo. His sick wife fainted. 


144 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE* 


They say they’re trying to blow up the 
tunnel with dynamite, on beyond here,” 
said another. The wife of this gentleman 
laughed, and said she believed he made 
that up. 

We’re coming into Las Palmas. Here’s 
where we’ll put up, I ratlier think.” 

Yes, sir, you’re right there. Twelve 
trains here ahead.” 

Let’s hope there’s an eating-house.” 

That’s just it. Strike head-quarters has 
ordered that no food is to be brought in on 
the railroad. They’ve cut off the eating- 
house supplies. They think they can bring 
the railroads to terms by starving their pas- 
sengers. Well, here we are, sir, citizens of 
the United States, supposed to have a Gov- 
ernment over our heads.” 

Adde listened, and was seized with a 
dread that was altogether new to her. It 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


145 


was a larger fear than she had ever known 
before — this fear for her country, for the re- 
public, for democracy. The great war of 
classes had apparently come, that cynics 
said would put an end to democratic gov- 
ernments. People had been growing too 
rich and too poor in America, in fair, hope- 
ful, aspiring, inspiring America, as it had 
once been. As Adde had fallen upon the 
period of athletics for women, so she had 
upon that of economics for women. She 
had read and she had thought, not always 
wisely, but at least with the effect upon 
herself that her thoughts embraced a great 
number and variety of people. She had had 
an interest in the life of the workingman 
such as ten years before her time young ladies 
did not dream of. She warmed to every 
movement that enlarged his life. She was 
jealous for his dignity, his peace, and con- 


146 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


tent. For his own sake she deplored his 
sullenness toward the rich. She desired, 
above all things, that the workingman should 
preserve his own pride of place. He had 
his grievances, that she knew, and her sym- 
pathies flew to the side of the wronged ; but, 
in the present crisis, Adele was profoundly 
disappointed in her ^^hero as working- 
man.^* With her new-born love of country, 
she resented the attack upon its liberties. 
More than the idealized workman, she loved 
that spirit evoked by the sunset music at 
Fort Halona. 

Oh, do you think it will end in war, 
sir ? * * asked Adele of an old gentleman who 
had been making the tour of the waiting 
trains. 

He stopped and looked at her. He did 
not regard a young lady’s opinions about 
strikes as in any wise valuable. 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


147 


^^War, bless you, no,” he said, with 
grandfatherly kindness. ‘‘ It’s only a ques- 
tion of getting something to eat.” 

Every time he passed her, the old gentle- 
man made it his business to say an encour- 
aging word to Adele. 

‘‘We aren’t half so bad off as the trains 
ahead. They’ve been standing there six 
days already. It’s hard on the women. 
There’s one woman, they say she’s dying. 
They telegraphed to Chicago, to know if 
they could get her out of this, and the an- 
swer was, ‘ Let not a wheel turn.’ ” 

“Sir, I can’t believe it!” Adele sat 
erect, all pity and indignation. 

The long lines of sleeping-cars stood im- 
movable in the noon-day sun. Plush of 
a hot brown, heavy fringed and tasselled cur- 
tains, yellow glass, mirrors repeating and 
increasing the scene in endless vistas of dis- 


148 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


comfort: such was the spectacle within, 
teeming with hot, hungry, sleepless, angry 
people. Sickness had begun ; there was 
inquiry for doctors. Several women, travel- 
ling alone, were prostrated and unable to 
help themselves. Many were weak for lack 
of food ; and all were suffering for sleep. 

Mrs. Blake and Adele looked at each 
other and were of one mind. 

<‘We must help; there is work to do,*' 
they said together. 

‘‘To begin wuth, Annie would not let me 
depend on the railway eating-houses, and I 
have a great deal more food than I need." 

“ I will bring my cold coffee,** said Mrs. 
Blake. 

“I am so well and strong,** laughed 
Adde; “ I can afford not to eat.** 

Mrs. Blake was still a little tragic. “ I 
don't care whether I ever eat again." 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


149 


Adders cologne-flask, smelling-salts, and 
all her pretty travelling-equipage were 
brought into the service. She did her ut- 
most for the poor lady who was indeed near 
dying, and whose murmurs of ‘‘ ministering 
angel ’ * Ad^le will never forget. 

‘‘I hear you are army women, said 
another invalid. Adde shook her head and 
perversely blushed. The lady with the two- 
days’ headache talked with closed eyes, 
however. ‘‘You are so brave, you army 
women. You rise to the emergency. I 
wonder if the men are as brave. If I live 
through this, I shall always remember your 
laugh. But your friend’s face is sad.” 

And yet Mrs. Blake told Adde, as they 
ate two biscuits apiece for supper, that she 
had not been so happy for two years. “ I 
feel as if I had got back to the real world 
and real life, where there are so many people 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


150 

and so many things to do. I had that feel- 
ing when I first saw you.*^ 

Next morning the old gentleman went 
out in quest of news, as he would have gone 
out to buy a morning paper. When he re- 
turned to the ladies, big head-lines were to 
be read in his excited countenance. 

‘‘You neednH have another minute’s 
fear,” he said to Adde. “They’ve done 
just what I said they ought to do. They’ll 
only have to show their bayonets, and these 
trains move on, sir. We’re going to see 
who’s got the upper hand on this continent. 
I said, first thing, they ought to order out the 
troops for us as well as for the Chicago folks. 
And they’ll be here by noon, sure.” 

“Troops, troops,” repeated Adde, 
“ what — where — what troops? ” 

“They’re on their way from Fort Ha- 


lona.” 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


151 


‘‘ From Fort Halona ? ” 

It’s a post on west of here. There’s a 
good deal of the time I don’t have any use 
for a standing army idling round ; but when 
you do want ’em, you want ’em bad.” He 
looked for Adele’s assent. She had turned 
to Mrs. Blake. 

Which men will come? ” 

‘‘Oh, I wonder,” whispered Mrs. Blake. 
At first there was general rejoicing over 
the news of the morning. Then people 
talked of danger ahead, when strikers and 
soldiers should meet. Adde had simple 
feminine prejudices against dynamite and 
gunpowder, but her mind was now working 
by more complicated laws. She exulted in 
the danger of the situation and magnified it, 
for the sweetness of being rescued from peril 
by the man — yes, the man she loved ; for 
the girl in the East had been exorcised. 


152 


A CIVILIAN attache" 


Mrs. Blake’s thoughts were agitated. Was 
a difficult work all to be undone ? Was fate 
thrusting upon her again what she had tried 
so hard to escape from ? That she had be- 
gun to reason again about fate ” was 
matter for alarm. But fate, or something 
better, mercifully detained at Fort Halona 
the First Lieutenant of Troop L. 

Noon came, and the troops were not 
there. Hour after hour passed, the hardest 
hours of all the waiting. An attack by the 
strikers on the route was plainly what had 
befallen the Government train. 

The long summer afternoon wore away. 
Real suffering had now set in among the 
wayfarers. Not alone delicate women and 
children, but such women as Adele herself 
felt the heat and crowding, and lack of food 
and sleep. The day before, Adde had been 
hungry ; to-day she felt faint and a trifle 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


153 


pathetic. Mirrors abounded, and she saw 
with interest the dark circles under her 
eyes. She kept a stout heart, and insisted 
that such a huge adventure was worth all it 
cost. This she said to the head physician 
of the strange hospital, and he looked at 
her anxiously, and bade her get out into 
the air at once. ‘‘ Take a little run before 
dark.^’ 

Adele stood upon a heap of railway ties 
and strained her eyes to the western 
horizon. Was there danger and disaster 
beyond there? She could not wait, she 
could not bear it any longer ; it was too 
much to expect of any woman^s nerves. 
Adde felt for her handkerchief. 

‘‘That’s right,” shouted the old gentle- 
man, swinging his arms frantically. “ Have 
your handkerchiefs ready to wave at ’em. 
They’re coming 1 they’re coming ! The 


154 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


man on the roof there with a field-glass — he 
sees the train coming ! Hurrah, hurrah ! ’’ 

Just as the night fell, the Government 
train drew in, amid an uproar of rejoicing. 
Handkerchiefs waved from every car-window 
of the twelve long trains. 

The troops pitched camp for the night, 
fires were lighted, and odors of bacon and 
coffee floated over to our famine-stricken 
travellers. 

The faithful old gentleman appeared, and 
begged them to go out under his escort to 
see the soldiers cook their supper. 

It isn't a sight you can see every day." 

But the ladies were tired ; they would 
wait till to-morrow. 

I heard a pretty good story out there," 
said their friend ; how they managed to 
get here. Their engine broke down — 
strikers soaped their pump. One young 


A CIVILIAN attache' 


155 


fellow, a lieutenant they called him, took a 
handful of men and footed it back ten miles 
to a reg’lar nest of strikers, and there he just 
took a locomotive right from under their 
noses, with the whole lot of ’em ready to 
fire. Never said a word to ’em, he didn’t; 
just walked off with their engine.” 

‘‘What was his name? did they say?” 
asked Adde. 

“A queer kind of a name, though there 
was a General Grade did good service in 
the Civil War. But that’s the kind of a 
chap for me. He may not get into the 
history books, but he’s what I call a hero. 
Now, don’t you say so ? ” 

Adde could not talk when Mrs. Blake 
would dilate upon the incident. She only 
looked at her with large, rapt eyes, tears 
close behind them. 

“ I hope this will end their calling him 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE* 


156 

Baby Grade, said Mrs. Blake. ‘‘ I think 
he is fine, that boy ! — I have always thought 
so. And I know something that you don’t 
know. * ’ 

What ? Adde whispered. 

‘‘I see such things. I have an instinct 
about them.^* Mrs. Blake’s lip trembled, 
as she stopped a sigh half-way. I saw, if 
nobody else did. ’ ’ 

Then Adde’s tears brimmed over, and 
she turned to the window. 

And now you are going to meet — I am 
so happy ! ” 

Still Adde said nothing. 

‘ ‘ There they are at the end of the car this 
moment. I’m going. Come ! ” 

Adele did not stir. She heard Hugh 
Gracie’s voice in a chorus of 

There’s Mrs. Blake 1 ” 

‘‘ A pretty mess ! ” 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE* 


157 


** A regular lark ! ** 

What kind of a picnic was it, Mrs. 
Blake? 

A pretty wind-up for Miss Kincaid’s 
peaceful summer. You’d both better come 
back with us. Don’t stir without a military 
escort after this. Have you heard what 
Gracie did? Gracie, show up there.” 

Still Adele did not appear. Mrs. Blake 
must go back to find her. 

For, with the evasion of a heart at bay, 
Adele had said, suddenly, Porter, will 
you make up my berth ? ’ ’ 

‘‘You’se all safe now. Miss. You kin 
sleep. I make it up right away.” 

Adele lay awake far into the night. She 
raised the woollen window -shade, drew her 
pillow close to the glass, and so looked out 
upon the white tents that gleamed in the 
moonlight. She closed her eyes in sweet 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


158 

peace and safety, then opened them again to 
search for one tent of them all. She pict- 
ured, dramatized, acted over and over 
again, Hugh Gracie’s deed of valor. To- 
morrow she should see him ; she rehearsed 
the scene. It would be on the railroad 
track, by the steps of her vestibule car. 
There would be people about, but she 
should manage to say how she admired his 
bravery. No, not that — every stranger would 
say that. What then? She searched her 
heart in preparation for the meeting of the 
morning, and after a long vigil, fell into 
an uncertain sleep. 

Adele was awakened suddenly by the 
jerking of the train beneath her, the long 
quiver of the brakes, the bumping over ties, 
and then a steady onward movement. 
She sat up in her berth, sharply and pain- 
fully awake. She heard a voice in the 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 


159 


aisle ; it was that of the faithful news- 
vender. 

‘‘Guess you all wonder what’s hap- 
pened,” said the old gentlemen, addressing 
the heavy stuff curtains on either side of the 
narrow aisle. “There’s a fellow in the 
next car that has got to get to Chicago, and 
he told the railroad folks if they’d get this 
train out ahead in the night, he’d make 
it right with ’em. They agreed to do it, 
if the army folks did. We’re armed to 
the teeth, you know. That fellow’s been 
a - ragin’ and a - rarin’ these three days. 
Guess we ain’t any of us going to object 
to getting out ahead.” 

Adele sank back upon her tossed and 
shapeless pillows. She moaned to herself 
at the wretched caprice that, within hear- 
ing of Hugh’s voice, had held her away 
from him. She could not account for 


i6o A CIVILIAN ATTACHE 

her own woman’s heart. And now, by 
this foolish accident, they were finally 
parted. To be sure, they had separated 
once before. ^^Ah, but I have found 
out now. I had to find it out by going 
away. Now I know it is far more than I 
thought — it is not one summer — it is my 
life. Oh, Hugh, Hugh ! ” she sobbed. 

He thinks I didn’t care. He will 
never know that I do care,” she mur- 
mured. Everything is dropped — just 
where it was that night of the good-byes. 
I wonder two people ever find each other 
in such a world, at the mercy of such 
chances. A Chicago man ! There is a 
funny side. But oh, I cannot laugh,” and 
she proved it by her tears. 

Adde had no other thoughts but these 
for days, and the friends to whom she went 
said they had always heard that high alti- 


A CIVILIAN ATTACHE i6i 

tude had its bad effects. However, I give 
an extract from a letter written by Aunt 
Isabella to Adde’s mother six weeks later : 

‘‘1 have heard that the young man has 
appeared at your house, and I am prepared, 
I shall never say, I told you so, but I do say 
that I hope you have found out the truth 
about your safe, sensible, practical twenty- 
five-year-old daughter. You wished that 
she were ‘ a little more romantic in the old- 
fashioned way.’ Are you satisfied ? Is 
this old-fashioned enough? Well, I be- 
lieve I am rather conservative myself. Give 
the dear child my love, and tell her to bring 
him to see me. ’ ’ 





may 6 '893 



f 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


00D22SbDbTfl 


HELEN PAW£S BROWN 






